Mixed Signals
by Tatau
Summary: Ray thought there was something between Fraser and him so he kissed him... obviously Fraser wasn't exactly on the same page. And now Ray has to spend the next few days locked up in a cabin with him, oh joy
1. Chapter 1

_**Mixed Signals**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK (eventually)

_**Rating:**_ PG

_**Words:**_ ~1.200

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Notes:**_ Written for the ds_aprilfools round 2011, Prompt 11: "Three days long?"

_**Summary:**_Ray thought there was something between Fraser and him so he kissed him... obviously Fraser wasn't exactly on the same page. And now Ray has to spend the next few days locked up in a cabin with him, oh joy

_**Status:**_** Part 1**

**Feedback Welcome! **

„No way!"

„This is a direct order, are we clear on this detective?"

Ray gave the filing cabinet a vicious kick.

"Crystal," he forced out between clenched teeth.

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. "For how long if I may ask?"

"You may," Welsh sighed, clearly unhappy with the level of cooperation here. "Three days-"

"Three days long?" Ray interrupted aghast.

"-at the least – Detective, is there anything particular about this assignment that rubs you the wrong way that you want to share?"

Ray muttered something.

"What was that?" There was an edge to Welsh's voice that made it perfectly clear that he was running out of patience.

"Nothing, there's…" Ray sighed, "There's nothing, Lieutenant."

'Nothing' covered a multitude of sins.

**~ Flashback ~**

The evening had started out like any other. They went for Thai food and afterwards Ray invited Fraser and Dief over for a hockey game at his apartment.

It was comfortable, those nights with Fraser. They were the best part of Ray's day and the shy smile that lit up Fraser's face whenever Ray asked him if he wanted to spend the evening with him always gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling.

It was different since they had come back from the quest. At first Ray couldn't put a finger on it. The smiles were different… or maybe the way some things sounded? Perhaps it was only in the way they spent even more time with each other than before?

It felt like tiptoeing around the proverbial elephant in the room. But Ray hadn't known what the elephant was – until recently.

There was the time when Ray had picked Fraser up at the airport once it was sure that Fraser was back for good in Chicago.

They had met outside of the arrival gate and Fraser's face had looked like the time he had jumped out of an airplane to fall into a field full of snow and Ray had grinned like an idiot himself and they had hugged and… they hadn't stopped.

They had pulled each other tighter, assuring each other that they were real, that this moment was real.

And then there was the time when Ray's face had said 'hello' to a brick wall because one of the funny guys they were pursuing thought introductions were long overdue. Fraser had taken him back the consulate and brought some of this disgusting mucus stuff out.

Fraser had dabbed the cotton swab into it and when he applied it to Ray's face he had suddenly stopped, seemingly mesmerized by Ray's face – which probably hadn't looked all too pretty after it had become great friends with the wall. And then Fraser had shaken himself as if to get rid of something and the moment had passed.

But there had been more moments like that. So many, in fact, that not even Ray's enormous capacity for self-denial was able to fend them off.

And that evening… that evening was all of those moments added together and then some.

They watched the game and sometimes Ray could feel Fraser looking at him and when he looked back Fraser would show him that crooked smile before looking back at the screen.

Ray felt butterflies in his stomach, how were you supposed to sit still with Fraser looking at you like that?

Then came the commercial at half time and Ray leaned forward to grab the remote but Fraser seemed to have the same idea so their hands touched and Ray swallowed at the contact and turned his head to look at Fraser and suddenly Fraser's face was so close and— Ray leaned closer by instinct, his eyes fluttering shut, and his lips brushed softly against Fraser's. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Until Fraser pulled away with a shocked gasp and stared at Ray as if he was out of his freaking mind.

"It's best if I go," Fraser had said with that dear in the headlights thing going and before Ray even managed to protest or even just open his mouth Fraser was already halfway out of the door.

'Confused' didn't even begin to cover it.

The next days were even worse. Ray had tried talking about it but Fraser was set on ignoring the damn elephant – which Ray considered a really spectacular achievement since this was, like, already sitting on it and wondering why everything looked so tiny and still denying that the elephant even existed.

So Ray tried ignoring it, too, just so that everything could go back to normal. Fraser's planet was worse off course than usual, though. Apparently, this kiss was as bad as an insult to the uniform – which, yeah, hurt, thank you, it wasn't like Ray had any human emotions or anything.

Ray couldn't say _anything;_ Fraser was instantly on the defensive. Generally speaking, they hadn't had a single conversation those last few days. They had argued for hours and Ray didn't even understand why Fraser was so damn pissed off.

Which led to the current state of affairs in which Welsh wanted them to stay enclosed at a safe house for at least three days with no one but each other for company.

Apparently, Fraser had pissed some guy off – someone other than Ray, that is – and now said guy wanted nothing better than the Mountie as dead as possible, naturally.

And because the guy was somehow a case for the feds they couldn't just stay where they were. No, that would be too easy. See, for the feds everything had to be complicated and with more flaws than you could count.

Ray didn't know to which numbskull it had made sense to use the very Mountie the guy wanted to kill as bait and – just to make it even easier for the nutjob – place the Mountie in some remote cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Yeah, Ray was damn glad for Fraser's safety that he got to be his backup…. But did it have to be _now_? Ray sounded whiny even to his own ears. This had to stop.

**~ End of Flashback ~**

"Constable, if you are as successful in attracting crime as is your want I believe you'll be back to duty in less than three days," Welsh said dryly.

"Ah," Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. "That would be preferable."

Ray threw him a dirty look. It wasn't as if Ray was only waiting for them to be alone. Just in case anyone was unsure on that point, Ray would prefer very much to nurse the blow to his ego alone without Fraser to rub the rejection in 24/7.

God, that man was like a damn salt shaker, making sure the wound never got any time to recover before rubbing in more of it.

"Kowalski, I hope you will be able to control that temper of yours for the next few days."

Why did everyone think that he had control issues? He was fine, he was fucking well-adjusted, he was a picture of fucking self-control, he… Ray sighed, he could still shoot himself. That was an option. Might not be pretty, but it was an option.

"Somebody shoot me…" Ray rubbed his hand over his face in a tired gesture. Fraser looked shocked. Serves him right, Ray thought bitterly.

"And deprive others of their dream? I'm not that cruel, detective. I'll see you both in a few days. I'm sure you have some packing to do," Welsh smiled pleasantly.

Ray's answering smile was all teeth.

**TBC? **

**Worth continuing? Let me know.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Mixed Signals**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau _**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ PG

_**Words:**_ ~2.300

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Notes:**_ Written for the ds_aprilfools round 2011, Prompt 28: Author's choice: whiplash

_**Summary:**_Feelings run high when stuck in a cabin for days on end with nothing to do leads to frayed nerves, lots of arguments and weirdness Fraser style.

**Part 2**

**Feedback Welcome! **

"This doesn't look right," Ray mumbled on a very tense drive up to the location of their safe house. They should have come across a river by now.

"Must have taken a wrong turn," he squinted through the windshield, trying to make out any distinguishing landmarks.

"Yes you have, on more than one occasion if I might add," Fraser snidely replied.

Ray's knuckles turned white where he gripped the steering wheel. This had been going on forever. If Fraser didn't stop with those stupid allusions Ray was going to kick him in the head.

"Then why didn't you just say so?" Ray snapped back.

"I didn't think that my opinion was required. You seem to prefer taking action without my input lately."

Ray gnashed his teeth.

"Fraser, if this is because of the k—"

"If you take the next left we should get to the right road again," Fraser interrupted briskly without even having to look at the damn map.

Great.

Ray had hoped the time at the cabin would be better; at least there was a bit more space than in the GTO.

But it all went downhill right from the start. Fraser orderly stowed away his stuff before he got out a book to sit in the easy chair in the corner.

Ray sighed; so Fraser was set on ignoring him, just peachy. He took a small tour around the two-room cabin and tried not to imagine Fraser's reaction to the wide bed in the rear room, 'bed' as in 'one'.

Sweat was beading on his brow; it must have been 90 degrees in there. He went back in the front room to look for the A/C. After checking the ceiling and every other corner of the room Ray came to the conclusion that this cabin didn't come equipped with further amenities than a bathroom.

He went to the window to let at least a bit of air inside.

"It's not going to lower the temperature if you open the window. Instead you will have to deal with mosquitoes on top of the heat," Fraser said without looking up from his book.

Ray wanted to kick something… or someone.

"Fine," Ray yelled before he went outside on the porch and slammed the door shut behind him. Stupid thing was Fraser was right. It was just as hot outside and now he stood outside with nothing to do and the mosquitoes quite obviously thought him delicious company… at least someone appreciated his presence.

He sat down on the porch and wished he was still smoking. He didn't know how much time had passed but when he finally decided to go back inside his shirt was plastered wetly to his body and his temples were glistening with sweat. Unconsciously, he wiped a bead of sweat away that trickled down his throat to vanish into the collar of his shirt.

At the sound of the door opening Fraser looked up shortly before going back to his book – only to do a double take a microsecond later. He fixed his eyes on Ray. Fraser's eyes looked darker than usual and his tongue sneaked out before he opened his mouth.

But Ray really did not wanna hear another complaint from Fraser so he walked past him and grabbed a towel for a much needed shower.

When he emerged from the bathroom Fraser was sitting at the table eating what looked like tomato soup.

"Uhm," Ray started to say unsure of what he wanted to say or ask.

"There is another bowl for you on the stove," Fraser said quietly.

Ray nodded and joined Fraser at the table. Ray blew on the soup and found Fraser looking at him intently. But the moment Fraser noticed Ray looking back he quickly focused on his own bowl again.

They ate in silence and Ray swallowed around the lump in his throat. God, he had really screwed it up this time. If he could take it all back he would… but Fraser wasn't even letting him apologize.

He muffled his sigh of defeat and collected their plates for washing. He hated doing the dishes, but Fraser wasn't offering as he usually did and Ray simply couldn't face another needless argument.

When he was finished he found that Fraser was back with his book so Ray looked around for another distraction. This cabin had nothing in form of entertainment. There was no TV, no nothing. What was Ray supposed to do the whole evening long when Fraser didn't even want to talk to him?

Ray browsed the shelf that held a very small assortment of books and picked up Moby Dick. He looked at it in dismay; 600 pages about a guy hunting a big white fish, exciting.

Fraser was probably the only living person who could sympathize with the single-minded tenacity of the guy. But it was better than starting on "War and Peace" or one of the Shakespeare volumes arranged on the shelf. Ray wondered who had equipped the cabin with those tomes of all things – a TV would have been a better investment – maybe the person had known Fraser's grandmother, this was right up her alley.

He lay down on the floor and started to leaf through the pages. He didn't get very far; the story was only funny at the beginning – even though Ray was no expert on 19th century literature… or any other literature for that matter – but this Ishmael and his cannibal seemed more like a queer couple than colleagues so it did have a certain amusement factor.

After this part, however, it all started to get very dull. Ray didn't have much fondness left for life aboard a ship and he definitely didn't want to read hundreds of pages in Fraser-talk prose about it.

He threw the book in the next corner and sighed. He turned onto his stomach and sighed again. God… he was so bored. He sighed again – just for good measure.

Fraser closed his book with a snap. "Ray, I am sorry that this cabin does not seem to provide you with a form of entertainment more in your favor but your long suffering sighs are rather distracting."

Ray took in Fraser's snippy tone and it raised his hackles on principle. "Oh yeah? If you weren't so dead set on ignoring me, maybe I wouldn't be this bored."

"I didn't know that I was here for your personal entertainment. It certainly wouldn't hurt you to spend an evening with a book, Ray."

Oh, that was rich.

"What? Now I am not bookish enough for your taste? Fuck you, Fraser. Not every one of us is a travelling library."

Ray towered over him so Fraser stood up to even the playing field.

"I've never said anything about turning into a library but apparently your favorite form of entertainment isn't all that well equipped to entertain someone on their own and—"

"Would you just stop it, Fraser?" Ray shouted. "I'm so sick of it!" They were so close Ray could feel every enraged breath Fraser took. "You can't stand my company anymore, fine!" Ray fisted his hand in Fraser's shirt and shook him. "Just say the fuck so and I'll leave you alone!"

Fraser growled in answer and closed his hand over Ray's wrist and pushed back. Ray stumbled slightly but Fraser held him up with the death grip on his wrist until he Ray's back was against the wall. Ray gasped for breath, completely baffled.

Fraser was pressed flush against him, his eyes all dark and his lips the tiniest bit open. Ray unconsciously licked his own lips – Fraser's gaze zeroed in on the movement of Ray's tongue and it wasn't just Ray's imagination that Fraser's face came closer, so close he could feel his breath on his lips. Ray gave the tiniest moan and Fraser seemed to snap out of it.

He let go of Ray and took a few hasty steps back. Fraser looked wild-eyed, a look Ray had never seen on him. It wasn't a bad look on him, uncontrolled, raw.

"Fraser," Ray said very quietly but Fraser was already shaking his head in denial.

Ray was left staring stupidly at Fraser's retreating back before he vanished into the bathroom. A moment later Ray heard water running.

He waited patiently for Fraser to return but cooling off his face did not seem to have lifted Fraser's mood any. He took one look at Ray before he squared his jaw and resumed his seat and opened his book again.

"Fraser, listen," Ray took a deep breath. "It's alright, okay? No need to freak out just because you almost—"

Fraser closed his book with more force than necessary. "Because I what, Ray? Because I let you goad me? Because I let myself get riled up against my better judgment? I am all ears for that interpretation of yours."

"…kiss me…" died like a whisper on Ray's lips.

Fraser's lips curled into an unpleasant sneer. "I did no such thing Ray and while I understand that human perception can be deceiving I would recommend not to insinuate. Projecting isn't really helpful."

"I—" Ray felt hopelessly lost. He hadn't meant to… he was just trying to help.

"Damn you, Fraser," Ray spit out before he slammed the bedroom door behind him.

When he woke up the next morning it was clear that the other side of the bed had not been used.

Ray sighed deeply. If he could just think of something to resolve this situation… but he didn't even know what was going on inside of Fraser's head. Flat out rejection Ray might have understood but… this? Didn't make one inch of sense.

Definitely time for coffee, everything was easier to cope with when you had a cup of coffee in your bloodstream.

Ray shuffled out into the hallway slightly sleepy eyed. He yawned which turned into a loud yell when the door to the bathroom was flung open and Ray literally ran into Fraser.

"Jesus-Christ!" Ray shouted. Way to suffer a heart-attack first thing in the morning. Fraser gripped Ray's upper arms to keep Ray from colliding with the floor and suddenly Ray was very, very aware that Fraser was only clad in a towel and that his skin was still steamy, with droplets of water here and there… especially there.

A bit of water from Fraser's damp hair trickled onto Ray's bare shoulder and he shivered. Fraser was looking at him in frozen shock and Ray's breath was still coming in pants after his heart had tried to jump right out of his chest.

Ray had difficulties focusing, the naked chest? The eyes? The mouth? What about that drop of water that ran down Fraser's throat, dipping into his collar bone to slide further down, just about skimming this perfectly lick-able nipple and – Ray swallowed. Fraser's thumbs were softly rubbing Ray's sleep warm skin and goose bumps broke out over Ray's naked chest.

He heard Fraser quickly draw a breath in and – the next thing Ray knew he was shoved to the side and the bedroom door fell closed behind Fraser. Ray stared bewildered at it. What the fuck—?

He swallowed again, trying to get some spit back into his parched mouth, rearranged himself inside of his boxer shorts and tried to regain his breathing.

Coffee, everything made more sense with coffee. At least, Ray supposed, it couldn't make any less sense.

Ray was on his second cup by the time Fraser showed his face in the front room. He looked all respectable again, prim and proper, as if none of this crazy stuff was going around lately. Maybe it was only Ray's imagination?

Hard to believe that Fraser had been drawn to him when he was wearing his ironed flannel shirt and his clean cut jeans.

And his hiking boots, and the hat, and… where did Fraser think he was going?

"Where do you think you're going?" Ray said dangerously over the rim of his cup.

Fraser pressed his mouth into a tight line.

"I'm going to take a walk, Ray. I think that you'll find that a perfectly sensible activity."

Ray curled his lip in annoyance.

"You think!"

"Ray, I assure you—"

"No fucking way! You are not risking your neck like that."

"Ray, I am hardly in danger. I'm taking a walk; there is no harm in that."

"No harm?" Ray spluttered outraged. "Why do you think we're stuck in this cabin? Because someone is after your goddamn stubborn Mountie head! And you're not going to make killing you any easier by just walking out to meet the fucking basket case—"

"Ray! I'm not going far, I'll stay alert and I will not take unnecessary risks," Fraser said calmly, going for patient here.

"Then I'll come with you," Ray decided firmly.

"Ah, I don't think this would serve the purpose."

Ray was momentarily speechless. Fraser seemed to take Ray's silent state as acceptance and made a move to the door.

Ray was out of his seat in a flash and pressed his palm flat against the surface of the door, preventing Fraser from opening it.

"Fraser, you're not going out there without back up," Ray said intensely. "… Ok?" He added quietly. God, he sounded tired and he knew it but could Fraser just not fight him on this one point? If Fraser got hurt on his watch because Ray felt too petty to protect him, because he hadn't tried hard enough he would never forgive himself.

Fraser opened his mouth to retort something but something in Ray's face stopped him. Fraser's gaze softened almost imperceptibly. "Alright, then," Fraser gave in. Ray let out a sigh of relief.

These mood swings were giving him whiplash.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Mixed Signals 3**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ R

_**Words:**_ ~1.800

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Notes:**_ Written for the ds_aprilfools round 2011, Prompt 23: Canadian Wildlife

_**Summary:**_ An encounter with unusual wildlife activity leads to a short biology lesson but Ray has way too much imagination so Fraser's explanation is totally wasted... or is it?

**Feedback Welcome! **

They ambled down the walk that led from the porch towards the forest in the distance. There were lots of routes labeled as hiking trails and leading to lookouts and stuff. This neck of the woods probably drew families for a weekend trip or couples for a romantic picnic… under other circumstances Ray might have even enjoyed it.

They followed the winding trail through wide spread trees and mossy patches of grass and Ray thanked all the gods he had ever heard of that this walk turned out to be quite peaceful so far.

Fraser was still tense but he didn't look about ready to snap anymore so Ray was all over the nature and the free air.

It didn't even look as if they would get any trouble, but they had only been walking for maybe half an hour and with Fraser Ray was lucky to get this much time without anyone trying to take a shot at them.

Suddenly Fraser stopped walking and Ray almost ran into him.

"What's—?"

"Shh," Fraser pressed a finger to his lips.

Ray blinked once and nodded.

Now Ray heard it, too. There was a rustling in the undergrowth somewhere to the right; it was still quiet so probably 100 feet away.

"You think we're going to meet any Canadian Wildlife or should I get prepared to get shot at?" Ray asked dryly when he saw Fraser's puzzled expression. Half an hour of peace… half an hour – he should probably be glad.

"We're not in Canada Ray so it would be highly unlikely to encounter any Canadian animal species out here."

Ray shrugged, unperturbed.

"It's wilderness, right?"

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow and scanned the tree line again before fixing Ray with a confused look.

"I imagine some people might term it that, yes."

Ray grinned slightly. "See, it's an approximation."

"Of what?"

"Of Canada." Ray couldn't contain his grin anymore.

"Are you sure it's me that is unhinged?" Fraser asked with raised eyebrows.

But Ray could see his lip quiver, they were good.

God, it felt wonderful to just _be_ with Fraser like that again. He'd missed it. Fraser smiled back cautiously when the rustling got more pronounced all of a sudden. It sounded like someone breaking through the bushes.

Ray frowned and mimed at Fraser that he would approach the source. Fraser wanted to walk in front of him but Ray hold him back and gestured to his gun and then back at Fraser's head. The nutcase hadn't asked Ray for a tea party after all.

Fraser opened his mouth to protest but suddenly there were voices accompanying the rustling so Ray turned around and moved closer behind the next tree. He cocked his gun and peered around the trunk.

The image was so surprising that Ray almost dropped his gun. He needed two attempts to pocket it again in his haste and he had to push at Fraser behind him to get going.

Fraser started to protest but Ray pulled him along until they were almost back on the trail.

"Ray, would you care to enlighten me as to the result of your observation? I am fairly certain the sounds were human, not from any form of wildlife."

Ray blushed slightly.

"Oh, it was wildlife alright," he scratched the back of his neck. "More of the city variety than of the fur family, though." He couldn't quite hide the grin. This was so absurd.

Fraser looked as if Ray was indeed more than a little unhinged.

"You know…" Ray waved his hand around. "Sometimes city people feel the need to get away from all the concrete and the noise and—"

"Yes, Ray. I am familiar with the concept. Are you telling me we stumbled upon other hikers?" He looked doubtful. "If they are this far off trail we should go back to warn them about—"

"They're not hiking, Fraser!" Ray said louder than intended.

Fraser looked taken aback.

"Well, despite of what you might want to call it there is a certain danger to leave marked trails if the person is not familiar with the area or without the help of a compa—"

"They don't need a compass for what they're doing, trust me." Ray said with a smirk.

"I, ah—whatever are you talking about, Ray?"

Ray grinned like a shark.

"They're fucking, Fraser."

Fraser looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind.

Ray's grin turned even broader.

"I'm not kidding."

"Let's go back to the cabin now." Fraser tried to make it sound as if the idea had cropped up completely coincidental and not because he was embarrassed.

Ray had a hard time keeping up and wondered what had bothered Fraser so much about this. Did he think they were hurting the plants or something? Squishing the dear little saplings with all of their humping and rutting? Ray had a hard time smothering the snicker that was rising up in his throat.

Maybe it was because Ray had said the f-word without using it for cursing? Or it was about knowing that someone less than a few feet away was getting some – right at that moment? Heh, perhaps Fraser felt like a perv now for knowing about it.

They arrived back at the cabin and Ray made a direct beeline for the water bottle on the table. He put the bottle to his lips and gulped thirstily until almost a quarter of the bottle was empty.

He stopped to take a breath and when he put the bottle to his lips again he caught Fraser staring at him; he appeared mesmerized by the way Ray's throat worked frantically to keep up with the gush of water.

Ray narrowed his eyes for a second before he put down the water bottle to smile cheekily at Fraser.

"Hey Fraser," he asked jokingly, "You're the wilderness expert, what's the worst that could happen when you do it like our two love birds back in the forest and commune a bit with nature that way?" He put on a mock thoughtful expression and waited for Fraser's answer.

At first he thought that Fraser wasn't going to answer or maybe that Fraser would act all Little-Miss-Manners and tell him off for asking such a rude question.

But then Fraser pulled at his collar and cleared his throat. Wonders will never cease, Ray thought delighted.

"Well, depending on the, ah, position you chose you might come into contact with different kinds of plants, there is poison oak which would cause nasty blisters and sever itching, you could also find _Clematis Virginiana_, known as Devil's Hair, near stream which belongs to the same family of Toxicodendrons, there is also a risk in inherently harmless plants like blackberries because of the thorns and," Fraser rubbed his eyebrow with a frown on his face, "I suppose it would be best to chose a position that would enable you to stay off the ground."

The Mountie was talking about sex! Holy shit! 'Course, it was all in code and stuff but still they were talking about sex!

Ray's mouth hung open. "Off the ground?" He repeated stupidly.

Graphic images assaulted him in which Fraser pressed him against a tree, back in that clearing in the woods.

He looked unseeing at Fraser while pictures flashed before his eyes. Ray could almost feel the rough bark underneath his fingers where they were gripping the tree trunk, Fraser pressed hotly against his back, opening his fly and Ray's jeans hit the forest floor and there was the scrunching of twigs and leaves underfoot and Fraser's hand was impossibly warm where he gripped Ray's hip.

The smell of pine needles filled his lungs and Fraser's erection was nestled against the crack of his ass and—"

"Ray, Ray, Ray," Fraser was repeating and Ray shook his head, trying to see clearly again. His mouth was dry and he felt his erection straining against the zipper of his jeans.

He still held that water bottle in his hand like a damn life preserver and Fraser's look changed from worried to knowing with a quick scan of Ray's body. And Ray had nothing, really, to hide his erection; he considered holding the water bottle in front of him but that would make him look even more pathetic.

Ray tried to shrug it off.

"Uh, I… I just— you know, uhm, go…" he trailed off, inching away to the bathroom. Fraser stood rooted to the spot as if he was having a similar moment in which his brain had downloaded a completely different program than the one reality had currently going.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and gripped the sink with shaking fingers. "Deep breaths… deep breaths, you can do that." Sheesh, this wasn't the way he had pictured his day.

He figured he was already busted. Even if he did nothing Fraser would still assume that he did, so if he had to take the guilt train anyway he might as well enjoy the wank that would cause it.

He bit his lip and snapped his fly open. Damn Mountie ears could probably hear _his hand moving_ no matter how quiet he stayed. But no way was Ray stopping now, this trip had been excruciating torture from the get-go and he was only a man, he had his limits… and Fraser was exceptionally good at pushing them.

Ray clenched his teeth tighter together to keep from groaning when he increased the speed. A muffled moan resonated low in his throat, so fucking _close_, ah, shit— come on…just, _yes_—

He almost bit his tongue with the effort to keep silent as his orgasm ripped through him.

Ray took a moment to get his act back together before he cleaned himself up. He had no idea how long he had spent in there, didn't feel as if that had taken more than a couple of minutes.

Ray steeled himself before he opened the door. He had his little speech all prepared – okay, that was a lie, Ray never knew what he was going to say next but he felt deeply sure that something would have come to him the moment he opened his mouth.

Hadn't he been completely taken off guard by Fraser standing at the table with his palms pressed against the tabletop, his head lowered and his arms shaking with— no idea, stress? Strain?

Ray was next to him in an instant. He put his hand on Fraser's back and tried to look at his face. "Frase you okay there?"

He gripped Fraser's upper arm when no instantaneous reply came. Ray worried his lip.

"Fraser?" Ray asked again apprehensively.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Mixed Signals 4**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ PG

_**Words:**_ ~2.000

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Notes:**_ Written for the ds_aprilfools round 2011, Prompt 26: trophy

_**Summary:**_Fraser finally cracks, Ray risks his neck for curling and does a bit of car repair on the side – basically it's all in the day's work. And if they could just get 5 minutes undisturbed Ray would be a very happy man indeed.

_**A/N:**_ The curling thing is completely the fault of love_jackianto's hilarious curling trophy comic. I couldn't think of anything else when I tried to come up with something for this prompt

**Feedback Welcome! **

Fraser turned around and looked at Ray with widened eyes. He looked desperate and Ray gripped his arm tighter, trying to reassure him in some way.

"Fraser," he whispered again.

Fraser clenched his jaw in response.

"Are you—" Ray started to say but Fraser was already shaking his head.

"I can't Ray!" Fraser said urgently.

"Okay," Ray agreed panicky. "Okay, fine. It's alright Fraser," Ray babbled. He felt as if he had been saying that a lot lately.

Fraser took a shuddering breath.

"You have no idea, Ray… absolutely no idea," Fraser turned his whole body towards Ray and pulled him closer.

Ray stumbled against Fraser's warm chest, clinging to his shirt to keep up with the momentum.

"Fraser what—" Ray whispered.

"I can't Ray," Fraser murmured before his warm fingers touched Ray's cheekbones to stroke over the warm skin.

Ray flushed under the caress. Fraser's calloused fingers moved to his ears, learning their form before softly stroking the skin behind them. Ray's eyes fluttered closed.

Fraser's thumbs massaged along Ray's nape and Ray opened his mouth on a soundless moan.

Suddenly Ray gasped and his eyes flew open. Fraser's warm lips were pressed against his and Ray couldn't keep the enthusiastic groan in. He closed his eyes again in mindless bliss when Fraser slid his tongue in and Ray's tongue sneaked out carefully to meet him.

Fraser pressed closer, his fingers cradling Ray's face and his tongue went even deeper, trying to taste every inch of Ray and Ray was all too happy to grant him access to every spot he wanted to explore.

Fraser's lips were surprisingly soft and Ray bit softly at the lower lip when Fraser suddenly broke the kiss with a small whimper and rested his forehead against Ray's with closed eyes.

Ray groaned in frustration.

"Fraser!" he complained in an agonized tone.

"Ray, I—" he took a deep breath, "I heard something," Fraser whispered breathlessly – obviously trying to get the control over his emotions back.

Ray tried to focus on Fraser's face; he looked dead serious so Ray tried to clear his own head.

"What do you mean 'you heard something'?" Ray asked incredulously.

"Footsteps, outside," Fraser elaborated.

For a moment there Ray was inclined to believe that Fraser was just imagining stuff to have an excuse.

Fraser cocked his head before he nodded again. Ray let his head hang, their attacker had the worst timing ever.

Ray reached to his holster and pulled out his gun. He nodded at Fraser and moved into position next to the window. Fraser crouched behind the door and Ray tried very hard to regain his composure.

Defending himself wasn't the first thing on his mind when he sported an erection that could drill through steel.

"Fraser," Ray said quietly, "why is that guy even after you?"

"Ah, didn't you read the file, Ray?" Fraser asked with a customary rub of the eyebrow. Ray rolled his eyes.

"No, I figured you could fill me in later, being stuck at a cabin for days on end and all that."

Fraser's tongue sneaked out to wet his lips.

"It's not important right now."

"Not important? Fraser?" Ray exclaimed incredulous. "I'm standing here with my gun drawn! I'd say that counts as important so spill, what did you do this time?"

Fraser pulled at his collar.

"I'm afraid you won't like this, Ray."

"Try me, Fraser." Ray said with an expectant expression.

Fraser sighed.

"It's, well, it's about curling."

"What, you broke his curling trophy or what?" Ray asked exasperated. He was about to risk his life over a curling incident… God, he could only hope he wouldn't die because of it.

The embarrassment… he would never live it down – then again, if he died because of it he wasn't there to endure it anyway.

Ray Kowalski, detective 1st class, died in a shootout caused by the result of a Canadian curling match – that was more than depressing, that was pathetic.

So he thought it would be better to get this straight right from the start.

"Fraser, I am not going to risk my neck for curling!"

"Technically, you would be risking it for me."

"Oh," Ray paused for a moment, "that's alright then," he shrugged.

"And it wasn't about a trophy either. Paul McKinnley helped the Long Bay Curling Club Team to win the 'Stanley Cup' – also called the 'Golden Broom' – but I happened to discover that he paid someone off to throw the game and—"

"You just happened to discover that, huh?" Ray asked as sarcastic as he could.

"Well, yes, I wasn't suspicious at the beginning, I went there as a spectator. However, over the course of the game I felt that McKinnley had let countless opportunities slip through his fingers to land a—"

"Fraser, spare me the details. So you busted the guy and then what?"

"McKinnley got sentenced for bribery, conspiracy and manipulating a national competition. Since the evidence was striking and enough people were willingly testifying against him he was sentenced to—"

"Okay, okay, so he spent some quality time in jail and now he's out again or what?"

"Yes, he was released 4 days ago and he had sworn revenge from the day the sentence was passed."

Ray nodded. He could deal with this… but – just for the record – he still would have preferred it to risk his life for something not related to curling.

Someone rounded the corner of their cabin and Ray squinted through the thin curtains… wait a moment… wasn't this McKinnley blond?

The guy coming towards the door hard dark hair and maybe McKinnley had started dyeing his hair since he was released but the dark haired man didn't look as if he was hell-bent on revenge.

"Fraser, I don't think it's our guy," Ray whispered.

Ray's suspicions were confirmed a moment later when the man knocked on the door. Fraser nodded at Ray and moved to open the door; Ray remained next to the window with his gun drawn.

"Hey, there! Sorry to bother you," a cheerful voice exclaimed from the doorway.

"I'm James Conroy," he extended his hand towards Fraser who reached out with his own hand to shake it.

"Benton Fraser," he introduced himself and Ray was relieved that Fraser didn't state his involvement with the RCMP – or with the Chicago PD. No need to advertize it.

"How can we help you?" Fraser asked when Ray showed himself in the doorway.

"Hey, I'm Ray Vecchio." Ray shook hands with James.

"I'm so glad you guys are here. I've been walking for ages. I came across another cabin a mile back but it was deserted. My car broke down back on the main road and I was wondering whether you might have a telephone or a cell I could use."

"Certainly," Fraser assured him and went back inside to get Ray's cell phone.

"Any idea what caused the breakdown?" Ray asked.

"Dunno, I'm not really good with the mechanic stuff," he shrugged and laughed slightly embarrassed.

"I could take a look, if you'd like?" Ray offered when Fraser returned with the cell phone in hand.

"You would? That would be awesome, man. Thanks!" James smiled over the whole face.

"Pitter-patter, Frase," Ray grinned.

They went outside to the GTO and James directed them to the part of road where his battered Toyota was parked at the side.

Ray parked behind it and James opened the hood of the car for him. Ray danced around the car pulling at plugs and checking tubes and outlets while murmuring to himself.

"That's kinda his thing, isn't it?" James asked amused.

Fraser smiled back. "Yes, you could say that. He's rather gifted with car repairs."

Ray checked the oil-level and grumbled. "Okay, so far everything looks fine. Did you notice anything while you were driving? Like a light flickering on and off or something?" Ray wiped his underarm over his forehead, leaving a small streak of black oil on the skin. Fraser tried very hard not to stare too much.

James looked thoughtful. "Now that you mention it… the car radio dashboard lights went on and off for a moment before it went completely dark, that was shortly before the engine stopped."

Ray sighed. "I guess you have a broken alternator, it's the thing that keeps your car battery continuously re-juiced and sufficiently supplied with power."

James didn't look as if he knew what that meant.

"It means you will need to have it replaced," Fraser supplied.

"Oh man," James moaned. "Do I have to call a breakdown service now?"

Ray surveyed the engine again. "I think we could jumpstart the battery for the moment. But it's only temporary and highly unstable. You won't get very far. It's probably best if you drive directly to the next garage to get it fixed. I'll get the jumper cables."

"Thank you so much," James said grateful.

Ray grinned easily. "You're welcome."

"By the way, where's the other one of your group?" James asked.

Ray and Fraser exchanged a puzzled look.

"What do you mean?" Ray's gut didn't like this at all.

"Well, when I came into sight of your cabin I saw a car leave from the back. It had parked a bit off but I thought it belonged to your group, no? I tried to make myself known, I had hoped the guy would be bale to help me, but either he didn't notice or he didn't care," James shrugged.

"Can you describe the man and his car?" Fraser asked quietly.

"Sure, blond guy, built – like a sportsman or something. He drove a white pick-up, a really old one, though. I take it he doesn't belong to you guys after all, huh?"

"Nah, he doesn't but thanks for letting us know."

Ray and Fraser exchanged another glance before they helped bringing James' car back to life.

"I'll let traffic police know where you're headed in case your car croaks before you get to the next garage," Ray told James before he could pull away from the curb.

"Thanks again, guys!" He waved and was off.

Ray went back to the driver side of the Goat.

"Could you tell me what the feds are doing instead of protecting us from a broom sweeping madman like they are supposed to?" Ray asked annoyed.

"Ah, Ray I am sure they are doing…" Fraser stopped and pulled at his collar. "Well, I honestly couldn't say." Ray grinned at him; not even Fraser was able to find something nice to say about the federal methods.

"I guess we'd better be prepared then."

Ray threw Fraser's lips a wistful glance and Fraser blushed ever so slightly.

They got inside the car and Ray fiddled with the controls of the radio while Fraser fastened his seatbelt. The moment the seatbelt clicked shut Ray's hand shot out to rest against the passenger side window and he crowded Fraser against the door.

Ray's other hand pressed against Fraser's chest, pushing him against the seat.

"Wh—" Fraser started to say in a shaky voice when Ray's lips descended on him.

Ray ravished Fraser's mouth with every trick he knew. He licked hungrily in Fraser's mouth, entwining their tongues. There was a barely controlled urgency to Ray's kiss and Fraser groaned under the assault.

A low moan reverberated on his lips and finally his hands came up to pull Ray's face closer to him.

A jolt of desire coursed through Ray and he deepened the kiss, Fraser's silky wet lips moved against his and Ray touched his tongue against Fraser's crooked tooth; he moaned and pulled away panting.

"Ray…" Fraser whispered amazed.

"Oh God…" Ray gasped with a shuddering breath.

Fraser looked equally unable to form any coherent thought; he licked his lips, eyes still closed and breathing heavily.

"I… we should… yeah," Ray mumbled. He took a deep breath and resumed his seat. He gripped the steering wheel and tried to control the shaking in his fingers.

When the shaking subsided and his movements were steady again he turned the key in the ignition.

Time to come up with a plan of action.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Mixed Signals 5**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ PG-13

_**Words:**_ ~1.900

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Notes:**_ Written for the ds_aprilfools round 2011, Prompt 27: falsely accused

_**Summary:**_Fraser and Ray prepare for the showdown, Ray's mouth talks without any input from his brain and things get way out of hand

! Do NOT flame me because of the ending! ^_~ Take a deep breath instead and take a sedative or something similar !

**Part 5**

**Feedback Welcome! **

Personally, Ray thought it much more important to find out what was going through Fraser's head than prepare to face a guy who was pissed off because he had lost at something that resembled housework.

He chanced a glance over at his partner but Fraser looked miles away. He was still chewing on his lip which might have meant that he was still lost in the kiss – Ray's preferred interpretation – but it could just as well mean that whatever freaky objections Fraser had about this thing between them were getting the upper hand again.

Ray had a nervous fluttering in his gut and it definitely wasn't about the curling guy.

First things first, if they could get past the current situation Ray might get another shot at convincing Fraser – which seemed to work better without words anyway, go figure.

"What do you think? Was McKinnley watching us the whole time?"

Fraser came out of his musings with a start.

"Ah, I don't think that's likely. I don't remember seeing another car when we came back from our walk. I think he only spied on us after we've returned," he paused a moment. "Mr. Conroy's appearance has probably prevented him from taking any action."

Ray nodded thoughtfully.

"He'll be waiting for us, huh?"

Fraser glanced at Ray for a second.

"Ah, yes I'd say so. However, I think he will try to catch me on my own and since he has to believe that I am hiding at the cabin for my own safety it is highly likely that he still considers us unaware of his attention."

"Okay, so I simply stay close," Ray shrugged.

"On the contrary Ray. I believe it would yield the fastest results if we provided him with the opportunity to strike."

Ray looked at Fraser as if he had lost what little grip on reality he'd had.

"Are you unhinged?"

"Ray,"

"I will not leave you alone so you can do the noble thing and get shot!"

"Ray!"

"This is insane and I know that – for whatever weird Canadian reason – you're not terribly keen on being alone with me, fine, but-"

"RAY!"

"I am not leaving you to your fate just so you can be dead on your own."

"RAY!"

"YES?"

"It would be staged," Fraser explained as if that should have been obvious.

"Staged?" Ray repeated dubiously.

"Yes, Ray. As soon as we are aware of McKinnley's presence we stage a fight, create a situation that will lead him to believe that you won't be coming back anytime soon which provides him with a golden opportunity he won't be able to resist. You would have to stay hidden but, of course, able to monitor his moves—"

"Yeah, okay, I get it." Ray relaxed slightly. "I can do that."

"I know you can," Fraser said.

They arrived at the cabin and Ray stopped the car a little distance away. They surveyed the area and after a moment of silence Fraser quietly said: "Over there. Look over the roof of the cabin. He has pulled in off the road; the car is almost completely hidden by the group of trees to the left."

Ray pulled out his glasses and put them on.

"Yeah, I see it," Ray answered. "Showtime," he murmured.

Ray parked the car in the driveway and they entered the cabin silently. Inside, Fraser pulled Ray close and pressed his mouth against his ear.

Ray's heart was trying to jump out of his chest when Fraser's lips touched his skin because it was beating so hard.

"He might have placed a bug during our absence. We need to keep quiet."

Ray closed his eyes and breathed Fraser's scent in as deep as he could. He smelled of pine needles and sunshine and Ray never wanted to let go. Ray nodded quietly and Fraser stepped away.

Before Fraser had even taken more than one step Ray's hand had closed over Fraser's.

Fraser met Ray's gaze steadily and he squeezed his fingers softly before nodding.

"Fraser?" Ray whispered as low as he could.

Fraser whispered back "Yes, Ray?"

"Don't do anything stupid." Ray whispered tonelessly before he moved to the door and opened it.

"You know what your problem is, Fraser?" Ray shouted as he turned around. He hadn't known what he was going to say but frustration broke through without even engaging his brain.

"You still don't trust me!" Ray accused and for a second he was so surprised at what he had said that he just gaped at Fraser in utter shock. He had not planned to say that at all, he had just thought of inventing _something_ to fight over.

"Ray, I assure you I do trust you." Fraser sounded apprehensive and if Ray had to hazard a guess he'd say that Fraser was as surprised by his choice of topic as he was.

"No! You trust me to risk my scrawny ass, you trust me to cover you but you do not – I repeat – you do not _trust_ me, Fraser!" He jabbed two fingers of his right hand in Fraser's direction. And it was true, that was exactly Fraser's problem.

"Ray, I-" Fraser sounded pained but this had been preying on Ray's mind since it was clear that Fraser was not rejecting him because he didn't want Ray like that.

"I followed you onto a fucking ghost ship even though I can't swim and I almost drowned because of it! Dammit! I went on an Arctic quest with you and I've never so much as left Chicago before and still—" Ray shouted hoarsely, "I can't believe you still don't trust me to stick around!"

"That's not true, Ray!" Fraser tried to get through but Ray needed to get this off his chest.

"No? Why do you keep pushing me away then? Why are you so damn afraid to let me close?" Ray's voice almost broke and suddenly he realized where he was. Shit! This was supposed to be a staged thing; they only wanted McKinnley to make his move.

Well, they certainly looked convincing, no problem there. Ray just really, really hoped that the guy couldn't make out what they were saying.

Ray tried to convey 'I'm sorry' with his eyes but he wasn't sure if he was successful.

"Just forget it!" Ray shouted, willing Fraser to understand that he meant his whole outburst and not just that he was ending this discussion.

Fraser's lips tightened into a thin line before he took a step back and slammed the door.

"Fuck!" Ray cursed. He could only pray that Fraser was really just play acting. He really hadn't intended to discuss Fraser's schizophrenia now of all times.

Ray had to walk further than he had liked to until he reached suitable cover. He didn't like this at all. They would have to give McKinnley enough time to at least threaten Fraser otherwise they didn't have any hard evidence against him and Ray was so far away… fuck.

He had to wait for almost twenty minutes with bated breath before anything happened. The moment Ray could make out Paul McKinnley he realized one major flaw in their plan.

Ray had walked out of the cabin and more or less followed the trail since it wouldn't have made any sense to plunge into the bushes if he didn't want to appear suspicious but now McKinnley would see him if Ray came out of hiding before he had vanished from sight.

"Fuck!" Ray cursed again.

Before Ray had more time to consider his dilemma McKinnley checked that the coast was clear and moved to the left-hand side of the building, to the window of the back room.

Ray weighed his options but he was pretty sure that Fraser would have taken position in the front room to be able to survey more of the area. Shit, shit, shit.

It only took him a second more to realize that McKinnley must have broken into their cabin during their absence because he had obviously left open the rear window. God, he was so stupid! Why hadn't he checked the windows before going outside?

McKinnley heaved his upper body through the window and Ray kicked into action, running as if all the hounds of hell were behind him. He couldn't be more than 30 feet away when crashing could be heard inside of the cabin.

Ray stopped short when he reached the door. Barging in like that would really not help anyone at this point. Think, Kowalski, think.

He flattened himself against the wall and moved to the window to the right of the door. Ray moved his head as unobtrusively as he could and peered into the window.

He could see Fraser just in front of the doorway; he was kneeling and there was a red gash on his forehead but he was conscious and he looked angry rather than hurt so Ray breathed a sigh of relief.

McKinnley stood a little to the left, a baseball bat next to his feet and a gun trained on Fraser's head.

Ray counted his options. He could try to shoot through the window but chances were that McKinnley would see him move before he was able to do anything.

Using the door or any of the windows of the front room was out of the question, too; the guy had a clear advantage on him as far as entrance opportunities went. No matter which Ray chose he would hear him long before Ray would be able to move.

That really left only one option: the rear window.

Ray crept around the house as fast and as stealthily as he could.

He reached the window and climbed in as quietly as possible. He heard McKinnley talking which he figured was a good thing; as long as he had things to say he was unlikely to kill his audience by shooting Fraser.

Ray knew he had no hope of overpowering him. This wasn't what he was trying to accomplish. He was only trying to buy Fraser enough time to act.

He stayed out of sight until he reached the doorway. Ray pressed himself close against the wall before he took a deep breath. He pulled his gun and threw himself around the corner.

The moment McKinnley became aware of movement the gun was trained on Ray.

"Uh, hey there, a bit touchy aren't we?" Ray grinned condescendingly at him.

"You're a funny guy, eh? Want me to shoot the Mountie?" McKinnley asked and trained his gun back on Fraser.

Ray stood maybe a foot behind Fraser. Fraser was staring McKinnley down with that stubborn look he had when Ray spoke quietly.

"Fraser, remember how I said that I wouldn't die over something as stupid curling?"

There was an enraged "hey!" from McKinnley but Fraser turned his head to look at Ray with wide eyes.

"Ray—"

"You do know that I only falsely accused you of not trusting me, right?"

"Oh, please!" McKinnley shouted.

"Yes, I-Ray what—" Fraser said, desperately trying to figure out where this conversation was going and hoping that he was wrong.

"I need you to trust me now, Fraser," Ray said urgently trying to say with his eyes everything he couldn't say with words and then he took a step forward.

"Stay right there or I'll shoot you!" McKinnley threatened.

"RAY!" Fraser shouted when Ray took another step – directly in front of Fraser.

Fraser started to stand up, to push Ray out of the way.

McKinnley aimed at Ray's chest and Ray gave his best devil-may-care smile and trained his gun firmly on McKinnley.

And then McKinnley pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot was deafening.

And Ray heard Fraser scream his name before the bullet hit him.

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Mixed Signals 6**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ PG-13

_**Words:**_ ~2.300

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Summary:**_Things take a turn for the worse and even when everything seems to be under control again it is only a matter of time before everything goes haywire again

**Part 6**

**Feedback Welcome!**

The moment the bullet left the gun Fraser was up and moving. He tackled McKinnley to the ground and wrestled the gun from his hand – the man was laughing like a hyena while Fraser bound his hands with his lanyard but Fraser hardly noticed.

His mind was completely empty; he was devoid of any conscious thought. He couldn't think about this—not at all. He couldn't formulate a thought and he couldn't breathe. Time moved in slow motion.

He dreaded the moment when he had to turn around to check on Ray, afraid of what he might find. Fraser pocketed the gun and took a deep breath, Mc Kinnley was still laughing but it sounded as if from very far away.

Fraser turned around. Ray was lying on the floor, motionless. Fraser's throat constricted, this felt too much like one of his nightmares. He took a hesitant step toward Ray. He could see it all too clearly, the paleness of Ray's cheek… the red stain that spread slowly over the shirt. The color slowly drained from Fraser's lips. It brought him to his knees next to Ray.

He reached for Ray's lifeless hand, squeezing it softly.

The hand squeezed back. There was a groan before Ray's eyes flew open. Blue met blue and Fraser took a gasping breath. He looked Ray over again – there was no blood; no pallor to Ray's cheeks. He had simply allowed his mind to provide the pictures of his own worst fear, had let that fear conquer him— blurring the line between dream and reality.

Fraser took another shaky breath and closed his eyes briefly, his fingers still clasped around Ray's.

Ray pushed up on his elbows, a frown on his face.

"Frase… you okay?"

Fraser squeezed his eyes shut tight before he nodded in a jerky motion.

"Hey, I'm—I'm fine, Fraser." Ray squeezed Fraser's fingers again. Fraser opened his eyes slowly and Ray pulled up his shirt to show Fraser the vest he had been wearing – it had made sense, people were already trying to shoot him when they weren't out for Fraser's blood in particular; knowing that someone wanted the Mountie dead had been a welcome heads-up.

The spot where the bullet had hit the vest was still smarting, though. He would probably carry a bruise for a couple of days but –hey- compared to being dead it seemed like a pretty good trade-off.

There was the scraping of boots on hardwood and Ray pushed to his feet.

"Oh no, you don't," he said to McKinnley who had been trying to get to his feet while Fraser had been busy freaking out. He pulled his handcuffs out and slapped one on McKinnley's foot, the other end went around one of the legs of the heavy pine wardrobe in the corner.

Fraser had stood up again but he still looked shaken up, lost in some bad fantasy or something.

Ray considered the solid wood wardrobe for a second, judging from the weight that it would be highly unlikely for McKinnley to lift this thing far enough to pull his foot free. Ray really didn't like this but Fraser and he needed to talk.

He went over to Fraser and took him by the elbow. "Come on," he said quietly and pulled Fraser along toward the bedroom – no way was he having this discussion in plain view. He didn't go as far as to close the door completely behind them though, this semi-privacy would have to do for now.

"Fraser you gotta talk to me here 'cause you're really starting to freak me out."

Fraser looked pained but nodded anyway.

"I—" Fraser tugged at his collar and Ray waited expectantly. Several seconds went by until Ray realized that Fraser wasn't going to finish this sentence.

"Fraser? Work with me here. What's got you all rattled?"

Fraser's face blanched just the tiniest bit.

"The shot? Was it me getting shot?" Ray felt like he was playing twenty questions here.

"Ah, yes," Fraser finally managed to force out. "I—" Fraser jerked his head, "I'm sorry for not handling the situation better."

"For not—Fraser! I'm not worried about your professionalism here. Come on, this isn't the first time I got shot—hey, I got shot the first time we met, remember?"

Fraser looked pained again – as if he could have forgotten about their first day together.

"So what's different this time? I'm good, you're good, we got the bad guy, what's—"

"I wasn't in love with you then," Fraser blurted, looking horrified at his outburst. It looked as if he would give anything in the world to take this statement back but Ray was having none of it.

Was there any language in which this made sense? Ray wondered. First, Fraser didn't want to acknowledge the kiss – was in fact even pissed off because of it –then he had these weird impulse control issues and when they finally managed to kiss Fraser was just as hot for him as he had been the other way around and now he was freaked out because Ray had survived getting shot – and the explanation was that he was in love with him?

What kind of crazy-assed definition of 'love' was Fraser referring to? – Because this definitely wasn't one from a book Ray had read.

"Run that by me again, you're upset we're both okay because you're in love with me?" Ray seriously hoped that this didn't only sound wrong to his own ears.

Fraser sighed and dropped down onto the bed. He ran a hand through his hair before he fixed Ray with a miserable look in his eyes.

"I could see you lying on the floor…dead," he whispered and Ray's eyes widened. What the— "Fraser I'm not dead," he gestured along his body just to make sure he got his point across.

Fraser laughed humorlessly. "I know. I'm just…" he sighed again. "I was so afraid you might be that…"

"Okay, okay," Ray shrugged. "So you got scared, don't worry. We can deal with this."

"Don't you see Ray?" Fraser sounded almost desperate. "I can't be in love! I really can't I—I lose all perspective, I tend to get overwhelmed by my emotions and then I… I can't distinguish between what's real and what my mind tells me to see anymore," he whispered defeated.

Ray's jaw dropped open. "You're kidding, right?"

"I most certainly am not," Fraser answered affronted.

"How's that different from anyone else?" Ray asked puzzled.

"Others don't bring the people they love in danger… they don't hurt the people around them… and they don't fool themselves into believing… things."

Jesus… when had Fraser jumped onto the guilt train? Ray took a deep breath.

"Frase, it's alright. I promise no one will get hurt—"

"How can you know this? You told me that you believed you and ASA Kowalski were destined to be together but as you well know sometimes that just isn't enough, Ray."

Ouch, that one hurt.

There was a noise that sounded like someone knocking but when it didn't repeat itself Ray pushed it aside again because apparently Fraser wasn't finished. Who would be knocking on their cabin anyway?

"You risk everything and you still end up betraying everyone you care for, even the very person you love and—"

"Betrayal?" Ray asked confused. He had never cheated on Stella and this definitely had nothing to do with him getting shot. Somehow he was missing some vital pieces of information here.

"I'm just saying that—"

"Hey guys I just wanted to thank—what the fuck?"

Ray froze when he heard James' voice from the direction of the living room. Shit!

"Help me, man! You gotta help me! They're going to kill me!" They heard McKinnley say.

"Shit!" Ray and Fraser were out of the door in a flash – but they were too late.

James had moved to help McKinnley who had wasted no time to throw his hands over him, pulling the lanyard tight over James's throat. James managed to produce a choked off gurgle against the string cutting into his air supply.

Ray had his gun trained on them but he didn't have much to negotiate with. Fuck. McKinnley pulled his hands tighter.

"You're going to drop the gun and you're going to get rid of the handcuffs."

"Fuck you!" Ray snarled but James made a strangled sound and McKinnley smiled widely. "Now, if you please."

Ray clenched his jaw and kicked his weapon over. Mc Kinnley snatched it up and Fraser stepped forward, taking the key from Ray before he moved over to where James was being held hostage.

"You won't get away with this," Fraser's tone was full of conviction while he released the handcuffs.

"We'll see about that. You can be sure that I'll take you with me when I go down – one way or another. So long," he pushed up, pulling James along with him and moved backwards to the door which was still open from James' hurried entry.

"You better stay where you are if you don't want his blood on your hands."

Ray bared his teeth as they watched McKinnley drag James toward his car.

"Shit, shit, shit," Ray swore. "That's what you get for thanking people, Fraser!"

"He won't hurt him. He needs him to get to me," Fraser said calmly.

"Great!" Ray threw his arms in the air. "And that's supposed to make me feel better or what?"

"Considering that James' life is going to be safe for the time being I'd imagine that yes, it would make you feel better."

Ray growled and started pacing in a tight circle. "You and me," he jabbed his fingers in Fraser's direction, "we gotta talk! We're going to get Conroy out of there and then you have some explaining to do."

"Ray—"

"Do not 'Ray' me Fraser!" He sighed. "Let's call this in. We need someone to find this truck for us. Did you get the license plate?"

"It's 27BC1," Fraser said quietly. Ray nodded, trying to calm his nerves.

Ray called the station and asked Penny – the new civilian aid that had taken over for Frannie – to run the plate for him.

"Where can he go?" Ray wondered out loud, sitting down on the front steps of their cabin.

"He's not familiar with the area and I don't think he had thought of a back-up plan beforehand. I'd say he didn't expect any complications and a hostage has made things much more difficult for him to control."

"So you don't think he stayed in the area, huh? Where did he go then?"

Fraser rubbed a knuckle over his eyebrow. "I know you do not want to hear this Ray but Chicago in fact owns a curling club."

"Get out!"

"No, it's true. It moved its location rather recently however. The old ice skating rink was turned into a paint factory 3 years ago and the club found a new place in Northbrook a few miles north of Skokie."

"And you think he went back to that old ice rink?"

"Paul McKinnley won his first International curling match at that stadium. It would fit his psychological profile as well as providing him with a feeling of invincibility. I would also assume that he would consider it rather poetic if he could achieve his victory there."

"And by victory you mean…"

"My death, of course."

"Jeez! Do you need to be so matter of fact about this? You're giving me the creeps."

"I am sorry Ray; it hasn't been my intention to insinuate a lack of care where my personal well-being is concerned. It is a simple matter of proper preparation to be aware of what kind of criminal we are dealing with – and a man that doesn't shy away from murder is certainly in possession of a different mindframe than a poor sportsman who badly needed the money."

Ray's phone rang before he could reply. He nodded a few times at the information he received.

"The paint factory… does it happen to be a converted ice skating rink?"

Fraser looked intently at him and Ray nodded at him. Penny continued talking and Ray listened carefully.

"It's not? Huh, okay. Thanks for checking this."

"Looks like you were right. 1340 Glenview Road is indeed a paint factory and a former ice skating rink. It's not in use anymore, however. They closed it down at the beginning of the year because the owner went bankrupt."

"Then we have all the information we need."

"Yeah… I still don't like this Fraser."

"We don't have a choice Ray, Mr. Conroy is counting on our help."

Ray sighed. "How much ammunition is left in McKinnley's gun?"

Fraser handed the gun he had taken over to Ray. Ray removed the clip and made a disgusted sound. "Great, three rounds left. We'll see how much good this will do us."

They got into the car and Ray took them in the direction of Glenview.

"Hey Fraser, promise me you're going to tell me what's been eating at you once this is over?" Ray asked, going for nonchalant but not really succeeding.

"What do you mean Ray?"

"You know, with the relationship thing and all that?" He waved his hand around in a circle to encompass the whole mess—him, Fraser, love, betrayal and whatever else Fraser could fit into the equation.

"Ray there really isn't anything to discu—"

"Promise me, Fraser?" It was a threat and a plea at the same time and it caught Fraser off-guard; he opened his mouth and closed it again.

A second later he nodded once, "Alright."

"Good," Ray breathed in relief.

They turned onto the factory grounds and Ray took in the surprisingly dilapidated building, considering all the possible hiding places for an ambush, the dirt smudged windows that probably kept most of the light outside, and the debris that was lying around everywhere.

He didn't like this, didn't like this one bit. He had a hunch about this… and it wasn't a good one.

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Mixed Signals 7**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ R

_**Words:**_ ~2.270

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Summary:**_Ray should've known that his hunches were never wrong. In the end there's not much he can do about it though – only try to come out of it alive

**Part 7**

**Feedback Welcome!**

They stood in front of the main entrance that loomed before them.

Ray thought this was, like, a vision out of the most basic horror movie – you get the dilapidated building, the two good guys almost out of ammo and a maniac inside just waiting for the right moment to finish them off, one by one, in the dark.

"Do not say "I'll be right back" Fraser," Ray joked lamely – he felt unaccountably nervous.

"Why should I say such a nonsensical thing?" Fraser asked confused.

"It's part of this movie, it's—never mind." Ray looked at the big entrance door. "We can't take the main entrance that much is for sure. If we use that we can just as well advertize our arrival with a floodlight and a megaphone."

Fraser nodded. "However, there should be a back entrance for the cleaning stuff or even an entrance the curling players used to avoid the public when it was still an ice skating rink."

They searched around the back until they found a door that was boarded up with rude planks of wood. They nodded at each other and Ray went and searched for something they could use as a crowbar. He found an old metal pipe around the corner near the trash containers.

The planks were wet and rotten – they made hardly any sound at all when they pried them away.

Ray cocked his gun and entered the building first. The door led to an old changing room. It had at one time obviously been the changing room for a sports team but some left over items clearly indicated that it had been used by workers since.

He tried the light switch but except for a short humming of electricity nothing happened. Ray sighed. Of course, they would have to do this flying blind – why should it have been any different?

Fraser was already wedging something into the door to keep it from closing so that they could at least use what little light was filtering in from outside. Ray crossed the rest of the room and pulled at the door but it wasn't budging; it was locked.

Ray considered their options: they could either go back and take the main entrance – and be immediately discovered— or they could shoot the lock open, which might also warn McKinnley of their presence, and then take their chances with their entrance.

He shrugged. Taking his chances was better than erasing even the slightest chance right from the beginning. Ray fired a bullet at the door lock. It connected with a clear ping and the door moved open an inch.

Two bullets left, Ray counted with some measure of trepidation.

Ray's eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dim light that came from dirt stained windows to the upper right and left. The room had probably been the ticket area at one point but it had been turned – albeit badly – into some kind of break room. There was still an old pinball machine at the left-hand side and a moldy couch in the right corner.

Two doors were leading out of this room; one straight ahead and one to the farther right side. Judging from the layout the door to the right side probably led to an entrance area whereas the other should be leading to the old ice rink.

"It's probably best if we check that everything is clear first," Fraser whispered quietly, gesturing toward the door to the right. Ray nodded.

He moved to the door and pushed it open. There was a corridor which was almost pitch-black safe for the daylight that came from the window of the entrance door at the opposite end. Ray's eyes scanned the area; they were completely alone. There was an old attendance clock rusting away right next to the door but except for that the hallway was almost completely bare.

They turned back toward the last remaining door – the one that led to the heart of the factory. Ray squared his shoulders and opened the door as quietly as he could for a fraction of an inch.

When no immediate gunfire answered the movement he pushed the door slightly further open. Ray had never been inside of a paint factory and his mind had still been stuck on the ice skating rink so he wasn't at all prepared for the row of big, steel cylinders that lined the room – preventing a deeper look into the room.

Everything looked so old, no wonder the owner went bankrupt if he had thought he could compete with this outdated technology. The tanks also blocked out most of the light that came from the grimy windows along the ceiling.

Fraser's head came up in one swift motion and Ray followed his line of sight—there it was again, a shuffling sound, like feet dragging over concrete, somewhere behind the rows of paint barrels.

Fraser nodded and they started to sneak around the first row – careful not to trip over any of the junk from broken machineries or glass from one of the windows. They had just passed the second row when Fraser's arm stopped him from walking further.

Fraser pointed quietly between two tanks one row further back and Ray squinted. If he concentrated he could just make out some darker shape moving between those.

They inched closer and heard McKinnley's enraged whisper, "You shut the hell up!" There was the sound of skin connecting with skin, a groan of pain and the dull thud of something—or someone— hitting the ground.

Ray cursed silently, exchanged a short nod with Fraser and flung himself around the corner of the last row of tanks.

"Hold it!"

James Conroy was lying on the ground but he was stirring again, a low groan escaped his lips and Ray sighed in relief.

"Step away from him!" Ray shouted. Fraser was right next to him in an instant. "I'll take Mr. Conroy to the exit," Fraser said and Ray nodded.

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye on our friend here." No way was he marching this crazy bastard around in the dark while Fraser was busy keeping an eye on the hostage. There were simply too many possibilities for McKinnley to pull a vanishing trick in this junkyard.

Besides, Ray had his gun trained on him – what could he do anyway?

McKinnley was holding his hands up in surrender, a sour expression on his face. Fraser knelt down next to James.

"Are you alright, can you stand up?"

James held his hand to his rapidly swelling jaw and nodded carefully. Fraser gripped him around the upper arm and helped him up. Apparently James had put up a good fight, he had another bruise along his left cheekbone and he was limping slightly. Ray winced in sympathy at the sight – but James had unknowingly provided them with the distraction they had needed to get him out of there.

"I'll be right back," Fraser said quietly.

"I got it. Everything's under control." Ray sighed relieved. Maybe his hunch had been wrong after all.

Fraser's retreating figure had already vanished from sight; his footsteps could still be heard echoing quietly from the far side of the room.

The seconds ticked by in exaggerated slowness. Ray's hands were slightly sweaty; he was expecting McKinnley to do something stupid the minute his concentration slackened.

Suddenly the sound of police sirens filled the air and Ray jerked in surprise – what the hell was going on here – a tinny voice resounded from a speaker outside: "This is the FBI. You are surrounded. Throw down your weapons!"

Ray couldn't belief his ears – yet the moment of confusion was all the time McKinnley needed.

His breath left Ray in a rush when McKinnley's shoulder hit him into the solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping for breath and McKinnley moved a safe distance away again.

Ray heard the release of the safety catch of a gun before he even managed to straighten up again.

Ray looked around feverishly, there, a few inches away from his boot was a small metal cap from some kind of cylinder. He picked it up and while he moved to stand up again he made a small movement with his hand, throwing the metal cap away.

It resounded with a ping where it connected with one of the steel tanks a bit to their left –it had the desired effect. McKinnley automatically looked in the direction the sound had come from and Ray wasted no time.

He pulled the trigger and managed to hit the gunbarrel of McKinnley's gun and McKinnley couldn't keep his grip on it–he was too surprised by the force of the impact.

Ray had just opened his mouth to say "No funny business" when the sound of splintering glass from the other side of the building drew his attention. Fraser! Shit!

He realized too late that he had followed the direction of the noise, he was just about to turn his head again but he only had time to register steel glinting from the corner of his eye before pain exploded in a white hot flash over the back of his head.

Ray didn't feel it when his face hit the concrete floor.

And he didn't hear McKinnley's retreating footsteps either.

When he came to the pain in his head was almost enough to knock him out again. Ray groaned and put his fingers gingerly to the back of his head –they came away bloody. Fucking great!

Ray heaved himself up on all fours and fought against the wave of dizziness that assaulted him. He staggered to his feet and instantly started dry heaving.

Ray didn't manage more than three steps before he started retching and getting rid of the remains of his breakfast.

He wiped his mouth and took a slow look around… what was he doing here? He pressed a hand against the side of his head which was trying to split in two.

The last thing he remembered was McKinnley taking Conroy hostage.

This looked like some kind of factory. How did he end up in a factory? Most logical explanation was that this was where McKinnley had taken James.

It didn't matter, Ray decided. All he needed to do at the moment was find the exit.

Patches of black danced before his eyes and Ray fought hard to stay conscious. He stumbled around the next row of tanks—hadn't he just passed this exact row? He swallowed against another wave of nausea. This stuff all looked the same to him.

He didn't even know from which direction he had entered this hall. And what had happened to Fraser?

The throbbing in his head cut him off. Thinking hurt too much. But there were definitely patches in his memory, or at least pieces missing from the most recent events.

Suddenly there were sounds of a scuffle one row to the left. The cop instinct took over and Ray moved as quietly as he could toward the noise. He blinked hard and took several deep breaths in an effort to stay focused and not to give in to the pain.

He stopped behind another big steel contraption and looked around it, trying to make out what was happening on the other side of it. There was Fraser, panting harshly, with a dirt streak along his cheekbone and to the left, there was McKinnley and –when had McKinnley gotten Ray's weapon?

Ray couldn't remember that but the fact that it was trained on Fraser was more pressing than the similarities between Ray's short time memory and a sieve.

He looked around for inspiration—looking down wasn't a very good idea he thought when the urge to vomit threatened to overwhelm him.

There was a lever or something but Ray couldn't see to what it was connected. Next to that, however, was something that looked as if it would tilt the big steel tank behind which he was hiding. It was worth a try, Ray figured.

He pulled on the latch but it wasn't budging and Ray felt the exertion sapping his strength, he stumbled a step forward—only just catching himself again, his hand on the other lever and this one gave way—there was the grinding of a link chain running through metal fasteners – and then a horrible crash—just to the other side of the tank.

Ray's head swiveled in the direction of the crash, praying that Fraser was unhurt, when the sudden movement caused pain to flare through his head in a hitherto unknown intensity. Ray moaned in pain and surrendered to the darkness pulling on him.

He regained consciousness to the feeling of being spread out over the cold floor.

"The paramedics will be here any second now. You'll be fine, don't worry," Fraser was whispering frantically, "the ambulance is on its way, everything will be fine"– reassuring himself or reassuring Ray—Ray didn't know but opening his eyes took way too much effort.

"'m fine…" he mumbled instead. He wasn't sure if he indeed produced a sound but he felt his lips move.

Fraser's fingers were suddenly closing over Ray's.

"Ray," There was a catch in Fraser's voice. "You'll be fine, do you hear me? Everything will be alright."

Ray wanted to smile, tell Fraser that he could just stop freaking out—that it didn't become a Mountie— but it took too much effort. The pain in his head was blinding and talking only made him realize that he felt like puking.

So he smiled in his head and gave in to the pain. Sleep sounded good, sleep was greatness. 

**TBC… **


	8. Chapter 8

_**Mixed Signals 8**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ R

_**Words:**_ ~4.500

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Summary:**_Ray wakes up in the hospital. But is it always the one in the hospital bed that suffers the most? Fraser at least has a hard time keeping up appearances.

**Part 8**

**Feedback Welcome!**

Ray came back to consciousness in stages. The first time he felt more or less aware of his surroundings he wasn't all there. He could hear murmured voices but no words distinguished themselves, and even though his eyes felt open all he could see was white – it felt peaceful; completely painless – kinda like floating.

Ray had never given this out of body experience stuff any thought but this was kind of nice. He could get used to that.

The next time was slower. He didn't even realize that he was conscious again even though words washed over him in a soothing murmur because his brain didn't do anything with them. But the longer he lay there the more distinct the words became until Ray could even make sense of them.

"…she was 24 years old when she died. Her backpack showed that she had been ill prepared for the length of the hike and she must have gotten lost in the snow storm, she had strayed so far off course…"

Fraser's voice was low and sounded lost in thought. With awareness, however, also came pain. It exploded in white flashes behind Ray's eyelids and it took him a moment to work through it.

"…and, of course, I hadn't known she was there. But I had been in the area. To this day I'm wondering if… had I only known… maybe I could've saved her—"

Ray gave a quiet, pained moan. "Don't worry cuz… me? –You saved." Ray put a hand against his forehead, trying to stop the headache. "Being dead cannot hurt this much." Ray groaned in a hoarse voice he didn't recognize.

"Ray!" Fraser's voice grew louder with surprise and Ray winced at the new bout of headache it brought.

Fraser immediately lowered his voice again.

"I—," he seemed to check himself, "I'm going to call the doctor."

"Fraser—!" Ray interrupted—god, he didn't want a freaking doctor here right now. All he wanted was for Fraser to explain to him –quietly- what the fuck happened. But Fraser was already out of the room.

Ray carefully moved his head around on the pillow to take in his surroundings. It was a typical hospital room, no surprise there.

A man in a white lab coat appeared, Fraser in all his red glory hot on his heels.

"Ah, Mr. Kowalski, you are awake." He smiled politely over his wire-rimmed glasses. With a glance at Ray's pained expression he adjusted the IV which, as Ray now noticed, was connected to his arm. A few moments later Ray felt his headache recede and he sighed relieved.

"Better, I take it?" The doctor smiled again, a hint of amusement played around his lips and Ray decided that he liked the guy – hell, anyone who could stop his headache was a friend of Ray's.

"Much, thanks… So, what happened?" The way he saw it a hospital was the wrong place for subtlety. Fraser looked startled and the bit of color that had returned to his cheeks seemed to take another leave of absence.

The doctor nodded thoughtfully.

"Mr. Kowalski may I enquire what you remember? Are you aware of who and where you are?"

Ray made an annoyed noise. "Yeah, yeah, I'm Ray Kowalski and I'm in a hospital." This wasn't exactly rocket science.

The doctor didn't look convinced but the smile stayed fixed on his face. Maybe Ray didn't like him so much after all.

"Yes, you are quite correct. However, would you mind being a bit more specific?"

The tight look around Fraser's eyes made something in Ray twitch uncomfortably.

"Alright…" Ray took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them again and fixed his look on Fraser who seemed to cling to his eyes as if to a lifeline. "I'm Stanley Raymond Kowalski, detective first class of the 27th police department of Chicago. You're Corporal Benton Fraser RCMP and my partner of 3 years," he looked at the doctor who appeared pleased with Ray's assessment.

"We were working on a case and we managed to catch the bastard McKinnley. But he took a hostage – name was James Conroy- and…" Ray reached up to scratch his head when his fingers encountered gauze bandages. _What the-?_

"And what happened then Mr. Kowalski?"

Ray lowered his hand to the bed again while he puzzled out the answer.

"It gets a bit fuzzy after that," Ray admitted. Fraser's face was carefully neutral.

"I remember that we ended up in a factory, a paint factory I think, but one that hadn't been used for quite some time. I don't really know what happened then but I guess I got lucky and found McKinnley," Ray grinned apologetically, "and that he probably whacked me once I did," Ray shrugged. "When I came to my senses again I tried to find the exit but…" Ray tried to remember and ended shaking his head, "I dunno. I vaguely remember finding Fraser and –and a loud crash and then everything is a big blank up to now."

The doctor nodded with satisfaction. "You were very lucky Mr. Kowalski. From Corporal Fraser's account it seems as if you're memory is only missing a few facts around the time when you were hit. However, there is a possibility that your short term memory is affected in general."

"What? You mean I might have trouble remembering stuff?"

"Yes, it is a possibility. It might happen that you have difficulties remembering phone numbers or things on your shopping list, names, maybe. However, chances are good that you are going to make a full recovery." There was the confident smile again.

Ray nodded agreeably when, in all honesty, he wasn't thinking much about what the doctor had said. Right this moment he had bigger fish to fry than how many things he could remember of his shopping list.

"So, is anyone going to clue me in?" Ray asked impatiently when no one said anything for another few seconds.

The doctor cleared his throat.

"I'll leave the details of the actual events to Corporal Fraser, however, while at the factory you suffered a blow to the head by a," he consulted his notes, "a metal object of approximately 3 inches width – a metal bar in all probability. This resulted in what is most commonly known as 'blunt head trauma'. You lost consciousness some time after the blow and were brought here. We had to perform a craniotomy – a standard procedure of brain surgery –" the doctor continued and Fraser smiled encouragingly at Ray while his brain filled in the blanks:

_Craniotomy, Surgical operation in which a bone flap is temporarily removed from the brain to access the skull._ Fraser's smile stayed fixed on his face.

"—to treat the epidural hematoma – a blood clot, if you will – that had developed as result of the blow to your head," the doctor explained further.

_Epidural hematoma, A type of traumatic brain injury in which a buildup of blood occurs between the dura mater and the skull… and..._

…_between 15-20% of patients with epidural hematomas die of the injury._ Fraser's smile wavered the tiniest bit but Ray was still looking at the doctor and didn't notice. Sometimes, Fraser cursed his youth spent in the company of the books of his grandparents' library.

"The surgery was very successful Mr. Kowalski. You are obviously in the possession of a very fine, thick skull." The doctor smiled a little at his own joke.

Ray grinned. "Could have told you that." He paused for a second. "Does that mean I can go now?" Ray asked hopefully.

"In general, yes. However, we would like to keep you here for observation for one or two days. After that you are free to go home. You should try to keep exertions to a minimum for the next three weeks, try to ease back into your normal activities. And someone has to monitor your behavior in case there are any changes. We can probably remove the sutures in about a week if it heals nicely."

"Sutures?" Ray's hand came up to the bandages around his head again.

"No need to be alarmed Mr. Kowalski. I assure you there won't be anything but the faintest scar if at all."

Ray's fingers twitched nervously. "Ugh… could you give me a moment alone doc?"

"Certainly. I can imagine that this amount of information has been quite a lot to process. I'll check up on you in a little while and then you can ask me any questions you might have. Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, sure." Ray answered, thinking _go already_.

The doctor moved towards the door and Fraser followed with stiff movements.

"Fraser, where are you going?"

"Ah, I—" Fraser turned around and rubbed furiously at his eyebrow. He dropped his hand again with a bit of effort.

"You stay."

"Understood." Fraser smiled one of his tiny smiles, the one where he is secretly pleased but doesn't want to show it too much so you really had to know him well to see it at all.

The doctor closed the door behind him and Ray wasted no time. "Fraser, get me a mirror okay?"

"Ah, Ray—I really think you should get some rest." Ray narrowed his eyes and Fraser continued, "It's really not—"

"Fraser, hand me the damn mirror."

Fraser hesitated another second before he handed Ray a small hand mirror.

Better get this over with, Ray thought to himself and gritted his teeth. He flicked the mirror up to his face—and jumped in shock.

"JESUS!" Ray moved a hand to touch his own cheek. "Jesus," Ray repeated with disbelief. "How can you even look at me?" He asked incredulously, looking at Fraser.

But Fraser met his gaze with a stubborn look of his own. "There is nothing wrong with your appearance. These are simply a few bruises you acquired when you collapsed."

Ray mouthed 'a few' with enough heat to convey very clearly that he found this to be the mother of all understatements.

There were scrapes and scratches shortly above his eyebrow and again on his chin, he had purple shadows underneath his eyes and there were some purplish-red bruises blossoming on his left cheekbone that hurt just looking at them. There was a small, red crack splitting his lip on the left side and Ray winced when his tongue came out to touch it on its own accord. _Ouch_ pretty much covered it.

His eyes strayed up to the bandage that was wrapped around his head and before Fraser could stop him Ray had unraveled it. He gasped when it came away.

He craned his neck to the side, taking in the gap where his hair was missing. In disbelief Ray's fingers travelled over the bald patch, it wasn't that big, maybe fist-sized but… Ray swallowed. The stitches stood out in stark relief against his pale skin.

"Fraser I look like fucking Frankenstein!" Ray exclaimed in despair, still feeling the naked skin at the back of his skull.

Fraser smiled gently at him. "I'd say you're lucky then – after all, you could look like his monster."

Ray was confused for a second before he scowled. Fraser had a funny way of cheering someone up.

"Ray," Fraser continued earnestly – Ray hated it when he got out the earnest crap, it was like listening to a boy scout – you _had_ to believe him. "It is only temporary. They had to shave your head for the surgery but it will grow back. And the bruises will heal; when you dropped unconscious you probably hit the ground without being able to protect your face but the wounds are all superficial."

Ray was looking at the mirror again. God, what a sorry sight. He traced his face on the cold surface. This was depressing.

"So…" Ray wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. "I'm going to be alright?" Looking at his face like that wasn't the biggest encouragement.

"You're going to be alright." It sounded like a law – part of the order of the universe or something. It made Ray smile. He winced again when it hurt his split lip – _damn_.

"People with epidural hematomas are expected to make an excellent recovery." Fraser added.

"Okay, no permanent nerve damage or speech problems or anything, right?" Ray asked and fiddled with the bed sheet.

"Of course not, Ray." Fraser replied. _Permanent disability only occurs in 10% of the mild cases… it can't—it won't happen to you_.

Ray released a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. "Good, that's good."

Having Fraser here helped, the man was as solid as a rock. His mere presence was soothing if only because Fraser usually made everything alright for everyone.

Ray would have preferred to soak up Fraser's resolute presence for the rest of his hospital stay – Fraser was really good at creating a calming aura around himself. But apparently no one had gotten the memo that all Ray wanted was peace and quiet.

It seemed that every nurse in the goddamn place had something she wanted to check, some machine she had to fiddle around with or some test she had to run. If anyone pointed one more flashlight into his face Ray would not be held responsible for his actions. And, of course, Dr. Polite-Smile also came back for yet more questions and Ray was pretty sure that his headache would go down to almost non-existent if people would just stop hassling him.

No wonder no one wanted to spend longer than necessary in a hospital – this place made you sick to death.

It took three nurses, at least seventeen threats of kicking someone –anyone – in the head and some severe cussing that made Fraser wince before Dr. Distinguished-Glasses agreed to let Ray have a look at his file.

Ray sat up in his bed and stroked over the cover of the folder. He wasn't sure what to expect. So far everything anyone had told him had sounded like out of a movie – not something that had happened to him. Seeing the Polaroid of it though… different kettle of fish.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.

"You don't have to do that, Ray," Fraser's quietly assured voice drifted over from the visitor's chair, the chair which Fraser had never left since Ray had woken up save for going to fetch the doctor.

Ray looked at him, a lopsided grin playing around the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah I do. And you know it."

Fraser bit his lip before he nodded. He watched Ray opening the folder with apparent ease while his insides twisted themselves into knots with anxiety.

Ray gasped when he saw the first picture. Fraser didn't have to strain his neck to make out the picture; he had shamefully abused the admiration of one of the nurses to have a look at Ray's file prior to Ray's return to consciousness.

The first picture had been taken at the hospital, shortly after Ray's arrival. The doctors had been trying to ascertain if a craniotomy was needed but the picture hadn't shown the true horror. The wound had already been cleaned, the dirt had already vanished from Ray's hair…

…it wasn't as bad as following Ray's collapsing figure, to find him lying amidst the debris, a puddle of blood pooling on the concrete floor; it didn't show Fraser's scarily steady fingers while his hands had helped to shift Ray into the recovery position so that he could get air or the empty buzzing that had filled his mind at that moment.

It couldn't record Fraser's voice as he called the emergency in, the way it sounded so hollow when he said the fateful words "officer down", the dryness of his lips or the cold sweat when he added "we need an ambulance".

All that the picture showed was a tangle of blond strands of hair, a patch of skin still reddish from the blood they had cleaned away and a small sliver of skin behind the ear that was still slightly dusted with grime.

It didn't show how Fraser had been waiting, waiting so very patiently next to Ray for the paramedics to reach them which couldn't have taken more than a few minutes because the ambulance had already been on the way – the only good thing about the involvement of the FBI and the hostage situation they had had on their hands. But it felt like hours and the blood seemed to be dripping out of Ray, leaving him paler with every drop.

Drip… drip… and he had tried to stay focused, _head wounds always bleed worse than the wound itself is_, drip… _the recovery chances with instant medical attention are very good… _drip… but it took longer and longer for the paramedics to arrive so that Fraser wouldn't have to stand by and watch Ray bleed any longer… drip… _skull fractures_... and his mind painted various brain injuries in vivid detail... _cerebral contusion_, drip… _permanent disability…_ his heart rate sped up to a painful hammering in his chest..._ fatal…_ drip…

And right before his thoughts could overwhelm him with all the possible permanent damage a head wound could cause the paramedics arrived at long last and they strapped Ray to a stretcher and they hoisted him into the ambulance and Fraser got in next to them.

The sound of the siren was awfully loud, the whole van rattled slightly, cramped full with equipment and Ray was still so pale… motionless… and silent. Ray had never been silent. Not even when he slept.

The reality of it all made it feel surreal. And the nightmare had just begun, the—

"Earth to Fraser?" Ray sounded almost amused. "You should get some rest, Frase. You're sleeping on your feet," His voice let the concern bleed through the gentle banter.

"I'm fine Ray," he replied automatically, shaking himself out of his dark memories. And he was fine— everything was better than those last 24 hours. "What did you say?"

"What happened to McKinnley? All I remember is this big crash and I know that I thought something had happened to you."

"Ah, he's in the police hospital getting treatment for his broken shoulder."

"Say what?"

"You triggered a mechanism before you collapsed that released a pallet full of small, empty steel drums. The load was hanging almost directly above him when you pushed the lever. He was quite lucky, all things considered. His injuries could have been far worse."

Ray nodded with satisfaction. At least the asshole was in the same shit as Ray.

"Oh, hey, what about James? He okay?"

Fraser nodded; a warm smile on his lips. He admired Ray for the concern he showed towards others and his willingness to put others first – even though he always denied doing it.

"We were almost at the exit when the FBI announced their arrival. I found someone to take care of him and went back inside to find you – but McKinnley found me first and you already know the rest."

Ray made an affirmative sound and looked back at the pictures from his CT scan and the ones from after his surgery.

It wasn't such a bad deal that he couldn't remember the actual moment of the injury. Sure, he had the stitches at the back of his head but otherwise? The pain killers kept his headache at bay and as long as he didn't have to look at his face the whole incident was more of an abstract idea than one of his own memories.

"I should call Lieutenant Welsh and Francesca to let them know that you are awake now and on the way to recovery," Fraser interrupted his musings.

"Tell them I said 'hi' and tell them not to bother visit me at the hospital. I'm not planning on staying long enough for visitors. They can come visit me at home."

"It's a bit late for that, I'm afraid. They already visited you but you weren't conscious then and I sent them home so that they would get some sleep."

Ray blushed slightly with the wave of affection that washed over him. "Then say 'thanks' from me." he mumbled.

"I will. Anything else I can get you?"

"Get me out of here?" Ray only half-joked. If someone knew a sneaky way to break out of a hospital Fraser had probably already tried it.

Fraser's smile was sympathetic, "As soon as it's save Ray. Just a bit more patience."

Fraser stepped outside and took a deep breath. It took a moment for his heart beat to return to its normal, steady rhythm. He needed to be in control of his emotions. Ray more than anyone else counted on Fraser – and Ray was fine, he was on his way to recovery.

Fraser took another deep breath; in... out... Reliving everything, thinking about all the possibilities it could have gone wrong didn't help anyone and it was unnecessary. Ray was fine. Ray was fine, he repeated once more before he went down to the reception area.

Other people were also depending on him. _Call Lieutenant Welsh. Call Francesca. Reassure Ray. Stay calm_. He picked up the receiver and began to dial.

Once the door had closed after Fraser Ray sighed and let himself fall back against the cushions.

A moment later there was a soft knock on the door and the doctor was back.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'd feel better if people just stopped asking me that every five seconds," Ray grouched.

The doctor smiled indulgently. He had probably seen worse patients than Ray.

"I take it you're already better then. It might lift your spirits to talk about your release from the hospital?"

Now that sounded more like a topic Ray might want to discuss.

"Your condition is stable and there is only so much we can do for head wounds. I don't see much harm if you return home tomorrow evening if your condition remains stable or even improves. However—"

Ray had known it. There was always catch.

"We can't let you stay unsupervised. Head wounds are critical injuries in which change might occur much later than the initial treatment. It would be best if you stayed with someone for the next two weeks. Just to make sure someone can monitor your behavior in case there should be any changes or in order to get you medical assistance should dizziness or disorientation occur."

"Yeah, I can do that." Anything to get him out of there.

"Very well. I hope you'll have a good night here. Call the nurse if you need anything. I'll be by tomorrow morning to check up on your condition."

_Great_. Ray could barely contain his enthusiasm at the prospect. "Yeah, thanks."

Fraser had apparently already been waiting for the doctor to leave because he came in not two seconds after the door had closed.

"Any new information?" Fraser sounded almost as hopeful as if he were the one in Ray's position.

"Nah… I have to stay here for another day." Ray grimaced. "Hospitals suck."

"Ray it is a very promising sign that Dr. Hersey believes that you are well enough to be discharged as soon as tomorrow evening. Recovery from brain surgery may enquire you to stay in the hospital for up to two weeks."

Ray gaped at him. "No way!"

"I'm afraid so. You are very lucky Ray." Judging from Fraser's voice he felt pretty lucky, too.

Ray was again extremely thankful that it was Fraser who was keeping him company at the hospital. Fraser took everything in stride. He was the perfect candidate to handle a crisis – Ray shuddered just imagining having to listen to Francesca's tearful pep-talk for more than an hour.

Fraser wasn't freaking out. He was calm and reassuring and it made Ray feel more at ease. If Fraser could be calm about this it couldn't be all that bad.

Ray sighed. "Alright, alright. Jesus… one more day of this crazy circus here."

Fraser opened his mouth to reply something when an announcement came over the speaker in the hallway pronouncing the visitor hour over.

Ray rolled his eyes. "You better go home and grab some shut-eye."

Fraser wanted to object but Ray gave him a hard look before he managed to phrase a reply. "Nuh-uh. I'm fine and I'll still be fine tomorrow morning. You need some rest."

Fraser jerked his head in obvious displeasure. Finally, he nodded. "Alright."

Ray grinned. He loved it when he won an argument against Fraser.

Ray's night wasn't exactly quiet though. At first he drifted in and out of consciousness without ever feeling as if he had really slept in between and when he finally fell asleep he dreamt of stumbling around in the dark. He was looking for something and it was damn important that he found it fast – whatever it was he was looking for. But he couldn't find it and he was walking in circles while the darkness closed in around him.

He came awake with a gasp, sweat was beading on his temples and his breathing came fast and ragged. His hand moved to grab the bed sheet and found something warm lying on the bed. Ray looked to his right and could just make out a figure sleeping with its head on Ray's bed, cradled by a pair of strong hands.

The dim light filtering in through the curtains meant that it must have been around the early morning hours. And yet here was Fraser, still –no, again – sitting in the damn visitor chair, fast asleep.

Ray shook his head, affection welling up inside of him so strong his throat felt tight. It was a nice gesture that Fraser had stayed after all –that Mountie could be more than a little stubborn when he wanted to bend the rules to suit him.

Ray couldn't know that Fraser hadn't stayed for his sake – at least not only for that… but for his very own peace of mind.

Ray closed his fingers around one of Fraser's hands. _If only_… no, this was the worst time of the worst. First he had to get out of the hospital and over this head injury business and _then_ he could think about the nice stuff – which also happened to be the complicated stuff but with Fraser this came as no surprise to Ray.

Sometimes it seemed the better something could be the harder it was for Fraser to accept it.

Almost as if Fraser was so used to not getting the things he really, really, wanted – which was just sad. And no one could have _such_ a crappy life, could he? Fraser must have some happy memories, right?

With all the crazy stuff he had pulled in Chicago over the last few years he had probably impressed quite a few Canadians… Ray stumbled over this thought for a second… because Fraser wasn't in Chicago because he had so many fans in Canada that he had to get away, right?

The dull throbbing of his head was back and Ray decided that tomorrow was early enough to find out if Fraser was really as unhappy as all that.

As was often the case with these kinds of late night epiphanies they don't accompany you back to the waking world. Even though it would have saved Ray from quite a few hardships over the course of the next few weeks had he remembered his suspicions. Thankfully, he didn't know that either.

And after feeling Fraser's hand beneath his own sleep came much more readily.

**TBC...**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Mixed Signals 9**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ PG

_**Words:**_ ~5.700

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Summary:**_Ray is finally allowed to go home but it's still a long way to recovery. Fraser's there with him for every step of the way... but he's busy battling his own demons

**Part 9**

**Feedback Welcome!**

"Home sweet home, jigety-jig." Ray had never been this glad to come back to his own apartment. He already dreaded the next appointment at the hospital; at least it was still a week away.

Fraser came in a second later, followed closely by Diefenbaker, and closed the door quietly behind them.

Ray turned around. "You sure it's alright if you stay with me for the next two weeks?"

"Absolutely."

Diefenbaker gave an approving yip and Ray smiled at the wolf.

"In fact, I think they were slightly relieved at the consulate that I'm finally taking a few of my sick days. Apparently my amount is a bit more than is considered average."

Ray grinned. "Holidays, huh? They just pile up when you're not looking."

"Indeed Ray."

Ray snorted and shook his head. _Freak_, he thought affectionately.

"Still, 'm glad that you agreed to babysit me for the next few days – imagine my mum taking over?" He shuddered.

"I am not 'babysitting' you, Ray. I am merely on hand should you need assistance in case your condition deteriorates – which it won't. This is really a simple precaution; a necessary one, though. Head wounds should not be underestimated."

Ray nodded along with this. Fraser had already delivered this particular pep-talk when he had asked him this favor and the doc at the hospital had also given a similar speech – maybe they were all hiding something from Ray and he was really going to drop dead in a few days and that was why they were all trying to make him feel good?

"Good, so what now? You wanna go get something to eat?"

Fraser's expression was sympathetic.

"Ray I think it would be best if you lie down for a bit while I prepare something to eat." He smoothed his knuckles over his eyebrow. "It might be better to wait with walks around your neighborhood for another day or two."

Ray sighed. Sheesh… he was going to die a vegetable if everyone kept up their mantra of keeping him bedridden. But there was no way in hell that he could persuade Fraser to go against any direct recommendation of the doctor – of course, if it were Fraser himself he would probably already be back for guard duty… but try telling the Mountie that.

"Fine, fine. I'll go and lie down –again!" Ray flung his hands up in an exasperated gesture.

At least Fraser had the decency to look guilty. Diefenbaker apparently felt that it was his duty to keep him company which Ray found rather nice of him.

But it seemed that the short drive to Ray's apartment had been more strenuous than he had thought. After a few minutes of listening to Fraser puttering about in the kitchen Ray fell asleep even though he hadn't even felt tired when they had entered his flat.

"Ray?" A soft voice penetrated Ray's sleep-fogged mind. He blinked and Fraser came into view, a slightly anxious look on his face that slowly relaxed the more Ray came awake.

"How long have I been asleep?" He yawned.

"Maybe an hour," Fraser replied with a small smile. "Dinner is on the table."

_An hour?_ Ray couldn't even remember falling asleep and he hadn't dreamed either, which was probably a good thing.

Fraser had made some kind of stew which was even tastier because it was so much better than the hospital food they had tried to force down his throat the last few days.

Ray took another bout of painkillers after dinner to keep his headache in check and he knew the exact moment when they started to kick in because his eyelids started to feel like lead.

Fraser ushered him back to the couch and Ray dozed while a mindless game show on TV provided a soothing background noise. Fraser started to collect the plates to do the washing up but once he had everything in the sink and the water running Ray groaned quietly—it could have been a simple, comfortable grunt but it might have been in distress and— and Fraser felt a burning urge to check up on him, just to make sure everything was alright.

He put the plug into the sink and added dish liquid to let everything soak till later, wincing a little at the voice of his grandmother in his mind reprimanding him for neglecting his chores, and went to the couch where Ray was still moving restlessly in his sleep.

Fraser turned down the volume of the TV and covered Ray carefully with a blanket, hardly touching him at all. Ray's tossing quieted down and his breathing turned deep and steady. Fraser sighed in relief and took a seat in the armchair next to him with a book open in his lap.

Although he couldn't really focus on the words printed on the pages if he was honest. All too often his gaze strayed to Ray's now calmly sleeping form and would remain there for a minute or two before his eyes wandered back to his book at which point he had always forgotten what he had read a minute ago so he had to start again at the last paragraph only to find his eyes drawn to Ray yet again.

Diefenbaker followed the spectacle with a quiet whine and Fraser sighed before he reached down to scratch his ears in reassurance.

In the ordinary setting of everyday life that Ray's apartment provided Fraser could finally admit a thought he couldn't allow himself before, when Ray had still been at the hospital: Ray could have died.

He could have died because Fraser had left him alone with a criminal who had sworn murderous revenge and who had already demonstrated a tendency toward desperate behavior. Fraser should have foreseen this.

Even worse, Ray could have died because Fraser had let Paul McKinnley take a hostage in the first place; because he had put them all in jeopardy by losing control over his emotions when Ray got shot.

He had miscalculated the situation and he had only himself to blame. That Ray had been hit and the fact that he had only survived due to the strategic foresight on his part to wear a vest was more than enough proof how badly Fraser had misjudged the situation.

…Ray could have died…

Fraser's knuckles turned white where he was gripping the book. It had all been his fault. He knew that he was prone to let emotions cloud his judgment and yet… he had not been able to fight them.

Even if Ray could forgive him, how was he supposed to make excuses for himself when he knew very well that he could have prevented all of this from happening if he had just kept a tighter rein on his emotions!

Ray stretched and Fraser almost jumped from surprise. A look at the clock showed that almost two hours had passed since he had sat down.

"Ray you should go to bed. The couch isn't a suitable place to sleep with your injury." Fraser said almost automatically.

Ray yawned. "I'm all over that. What about you? I've got a spare blanket stashed somewhere in this dump and I'm sure I can hunt down another pillow." Ray started to scratch his head when he encountered the spot where he had received the blow.

He flinched when his fingers connected with naked skin and he pulled them hastily away.

Fraser smiled sadly. There were no words that could express the extent of his regret.

"That won't be necessary Ray," he forced the smile into a firmer, more reassuring one. "When I retrieved Dief I also brought my cot and I can assure you that it is very recommendable for a good night's sleep."

Ray shrugged; he was too tired to argue about this now. "You're unhinged."

Fraser smiled a real smile at Ray. "Sleep well."

And Ray was indeed more than a bit thankful to sleep in his own bed again. It was a delicious feeling and the sheets were cool against his skin. He dropped off to sleep in a matter of minutes.

Fraser set up his own bed and got settled. The quiet ticking of the clock was the only sound besides his own steady breathing – even Diefenbaker was utterly quiet on his spot in front of Ray's bedroom door.

Tick … Fraser turned onto his other side. Tick… It was ridiculous. Tick… He almost felt expectant but he couldn't have said what it was exactly that he was expecting to happen. Tick…

He closed his eyes again and tried to even his breathing, to clear his mind of all conscious thought – it was a well practiced technique and he had never had any trouble with it before. Tick…Tick…

Fraser tried not to think of anything and the ticking of the clock continued with its steady rhythm. And Fraser was still waiting— sitting in one of the uncomfortable little chairs in the reception area of the hospital, the plastic creaking softly with every shifting of his weight.

And he remembered the clock, appearing to tick in slow motion. Tick… … Tick… Tick… in exaggerated slowness.

They pushed Ray straight into the emergency room and a nurse had asked him to wait outside. And the clock ticked on as if the world was simply continuing, as if nothing had changed.

He had put his head into his hands and tried not to watch the hand on the dial, fearing that every minute that passed made it more likely that Ray's condition was much worse, that it took so long for the doctors to find the best approach because the wound was much more severe.

After what seemed like hours the doors opened again and there was Ray, still so very pale, still unconscious being pushed into another room and he had stood up—had made a move toward him, just to take his hand or to whisper some reassuring words to Ray but the nurse shook her head, asking him again very nicely to remain seated.

So Fraser had dropped back into his plastic chair again, listening to the unnatural loud ticking of the clock in the almost empty waiting room.

When the nurse reappeared with a couple of CT scans in her hand Fraser stood up again. This feeling of utter helplessness, of simply sitting around waiting, not able to do a _damn_ thing was pure agony.

The nurse took one look at him with pity in her eyes before she schooled her features into an encouraging smile. And Fraser wanted to shake her, tell her that she didn't have to sugarcoat the truth for him but he refrained from giving in to his baser impulses and asked her – as calmly as he could – what was happening to Ray.

She took one look at him and seemed to debate with herself.

"I'm sorry. There isn't much I can tell you so far. You just have to be a bit more patient please. I know this must be difficult for you," she said with a kind smile.

Fraser ground his teeth in frustration.

"I know, I—please, could you just tell me if his condition is critical?"

The nurse bit her lip.

"Your friend was very lucky that he received medical attention almost immediately. The doctor is still deciding if he will need surgery – but that is no cause to be alarmed, this is mostly a precaution with head injuries. I—I'll get a doctor to speak to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you kindly," Fraser took a deep breath and took his seat again.

He was almost sure that the clock had stopped working it was going so slow, the minutes trickled by with what felt like an hour at a time.

"Constable Fraser," the doctor looked up from his clipboard with a polite smile.

Fraser stood up again; hope and anxiety made him feel jittery so that it took him a second before he managed to reply.

"Ah, yes, that would be me. Are there any news?"

The doctor extended his hand. "I'm doctor Hersey and Mr. Kowalski's attending doctor. Mr. Kowalski suffers from blunt head trauma; however, since he was brought here almost directly his chances are very good to make a full recovery."

"But you don't know that yet." Fraser rephrased it.

The doctor's smile turned sympathetic. "No, we can't say that for sure at the current moment. The CT showed an epidural hematoma, that's a—"

"A blood clot, I know." Fraser interrupted.

"Ah, I see you are familiar with head injuries then. Yes, the procedure to alleviate the pressure caused by that is called a craniotomy. After that we can give you a more definite prognosis. This is going to take a while longer though, so if you'd like to go home and—"

"I'll stay." Fraser interrupted again, wincing slightly at his rudeness but unable to stop himself.

"Very well. We'll let you know once he is back from surgery."

The doctor vanished again with a flourish and Fraser resumed his seat with a sigh.

It might have been hours later or maybe only a few minutes when the doors of the hospital slid open to reveal Lieutenant Welsh.

"Fraser," the quiet tenor was soothing to Fraser's ears.

"Ah, Leftenant. I should have called, I don't know how I could forget—"

"Don't worry yourself. When everything blew up it didn't take long for word to get around. And I make it my business to know about my detectives." He looked grim and Fraser felt warmed by Welsh's interest in Ray's well-being.

"So what's the verdict Constable?"

Fraser cracked his neck before he straightened up.

"The doctor is very hopeful that Ray will make a full recovery. He's still getting treated though—"

Before he could finish the sentence Francesca came running into the waiting area as fast as her penny-sized heels would carry her.

"Frasier!" She flung herself at him, renewing the tear tracks on her cheeks. Fraser swallowed. He was afraid, he was tired, he felt out of sorts and unwelcome in his own skin and he couldn't deal with this, with her, with her own sorrow and fear and her interest in him, not now, not at this very moment.

"Oh god, please tell me he is alright? Is he fine? When I heard—dear Lord, will he be alright?" She sniffed and Fraser heard himself answer in this calm, professional voice as if someone else was speaking: "He's getting surgery right now. It is only a precaution to prevent pressure to build in his brain. He'll be fine, the doctor is very confident about his condition."

The other part of him stared in shock at his controlled answer – knowing full well that it wasn't a good sign that they wanted to perform surgery on Ray while he was still unconscious, that this meant his wound was indeed critical if they thought they were risking too much if they waited for the next day. And he knew just as well that it wasn't a good sign in any medical book that Ray had still not woken up.

He knew all this and yet… he fed Francesca the soothing parts, reassuring everyone else no matter how it looked inside of him. It was as if one part of him had detached himself to dread the next talk with the doctor, and to be miserable and afraid while the other part of him stayed calm and in control and knew exactly what to say instead of simply burying his head in his hands and wanting to be left alone.

"Oh, I hope you're right Fraser… I'm sure he'll come through alright, he's tough as nails, you know?" She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief and gave him a wobbly smile.

And he smiled encouragingly at her and nodded as if he was just as sure that all would go well. This was the misery of hospitals all around –everyone in there lied to everyone else until no one knew the truth anymore.

The Lieutenant clapped him on the shoulder and they all sat down again. They must have talked during their visit, Fraser was sure of that. But he couldn't recall a single word they might have said to each other.

He had a vivid recollection of the ticking of the clock and of watching Welsh pace from time to time and he knew that Francesca had sipped on a cup of tea at some point but everything else was drowned out. All he could remember hearing was his own voice repeating over and over in his head: _Please, let him be fine; please let him be fine._

When the doctor finally approached them it must have been the early hours of the morning.

"I'm glad to be able to tell you that Mr. Kowalski came through the surgery alright. He is still in the recovery room though, so we will have to wait with further tests. We were able to remove the blood clot though and his condition is stable now."

Francesca squealed and hugged Fraser again but all he could manage in response was a tired smile. This wasn't bad news but it wasn't good either. In fact, it only meant that they still didn't know how Ray was – if there was any permanent damage or any damage at all, if his nerves had suffered from lack of oxygen or if the pressure of the blow had hurt an area of the brain. They didn't know so they simply said that everything was 'stable', that he had survived the surgery.

At least it was something. He was alive. His heart was still beating.

"You can visit him tomorrow. The anesthesia is still in effect so he won't be able to tell if you're here right now," the doctor hinted kindly at their exhausted state.

Fraser filled in the blanks for himself. He was unconscious when he went under, how do you know if it's only the anesthesia working? How do you know he won't wake up at some point in the middle of the night?

How do you know everything is going to be alright tomorrow?

The Lieutenant nodded and offered to drive them all home. But Fraser couldn't leave. Not before he knew if Ray was going to wake up and be… himself. Alright. Safe.

Welsh looked intently at him before thumbing his nose almost imperceptibly. Francesca was torn between following Welsh and staying with Fraser but he assured her that he wouldn't stay much longer –another lie—and that they would visit Ray tomorrow together –something else that wouldn't come true.

She nodded bravely and followed the Lieutenant to his car.

Fraser sat there alone again, engaged in his own one-on-one battle with the clock and his own thoughts. After another hour he started pacing, he knew that he must look like hell.

Dirty from the factory and the long day they had had, dark circles under his eyes from anxiety and lack of sleep, ruffled hair from all the times he had run his fingers through it in distress and distinct stubble on his cheeks.

The same nurse from before passed him again in the hallway, she must have started the night shift when they arrived. She passed him with a frown before rounding the corner.

She came back a minute or two later – or whatever the clock passed off as minutes around here.

"You won't leave no matter how long it takes for him to wake up, hm?"

He shook his head, smiling sadly. "I can't," he said quietly, his voice rough with the long time he had been awake and too little fluids over the course of the day.

She chanced a glance at the clock.

"Do you think you will be able to catch a few hours of sleep if I let you see him?"

His head shot up and his lips moved into a grateful smile. "I don't want to get you into trouble." The moment the words left his lips he already regretted them. What if his politeness had cost him his chance to see him, what if she withdrew her offer?

But she only smiled at him. "Don't worry about me. You seem to have enough on your plate already. I'll let Lisa know – she'll take over my shift in a few hours—so that she can get you out of the room before the doctor makes his morning round. Come on."

Fraser was standing before he had even willed his legs to move. She walked ahead of him, leading him two corridors further down before she stopped in front of a door, "He was moved out of the recovery room when he moved from the anesthesia into normal sleep. He's the only one occupying this room so far; it was a quiet night."

He nodded and swallowed dryly. All he wanted was for her to open this door, the faster the better and yet he was afraid of what might await him. But everything was better than to listen to this damnable clock ticking away minute after minute without knowing what had happened to Ray.

Tick… Tick…

Fraser groaned quietly. He didn't want to be thinking about the horrors of waiting in the hospital. Ray was fine now; he was back at home – only one room away in fact.

He pushed himself up and went to the far side of Ray's living room to snatch the clock off the wall. He flipped it upside down in his hands and took the batteries out. The ticking died instantly.

Fraser sighed relieved and hung the clock back on the wall. He moved back onto his cot and willed himself to sleep. It still took a while but at least he wasn't haunted by his own memories anymore.

He woke up a few hours later, groggy and not very rested. At least the sun was already up and it looked as if it had been for a while already. Fraser took Dief for a long run and it really helped. He felt calmer, more at ease and certainly more in control of himself than he had last night.

Each step that echoed on the concrete made him feel a bit lighter, as if he could outrun his burden. He drove his body further than he had intended, Dief's tongue was hanging out and Fraser's thigh muscles burned when they reached Ray's apartment again. He panted for air when he let himself into the flat.

But Ray was apparently still asleep – at least the door to his bedroom was still closed. Very quietly Fraser opened the door a little. Ray was indeed asleep, a tangle of limbs in the golden morning sun, his muscles twitched now and again and Ray snuggled further down under the sheets.

Fraser smiled softly and closed the door again. He took a shower and went to start on some breakfast. His lips pressed into a thin line when he saw the dirty dishes from the evening before. Well, there was nothing for it he would have to do them now.

He pulled the plug out and waited for the water to drain. Scrubbing the pots and dishes didn't take all that long and he was rather pleased with himself when everything was restored to its clean state. Fraser started to rinse his hands, washing the rest of the dishwater away.

Suddenly his eyes were drawn to the suds that were running down his hands. He stared fascinated, seeing for a moment the stainless steel sink of the hospital, the dried blood on his hands from tending to Ray's wound that he was scrubbing away from his hands as if ridding them from this blemish could make it all undone again.

Fraser shook his head forcefully. Enough! His behavior was truly appalling. He was supposed to be a member of the RCMP; his conduct was embarrassing at best. He would stay focused and controlled and not give in to these waking nightmares. He was a Mountie.

He focused on his hands until the bloody images vanished and Ray's clean, if chipped, sink came into view again and all he could see were rests of soap and water running down the drain.

The scrambled eggs were almost ready when Fraser heard the bedroom door open. Ray emerged and came into view half a minute later, a slight frown on his face that broke into a smile once he took a deep breath.

"Frase, that smells mouthwatering. And here I thought I couldn't get any food into me this morning."

"Is it your headache again?" Fraser asked softly.

Ray made a little affirmative sound and danced around Fraser to have a look at the frying pan.

"Your medication is on the table, Ray."

"You're a saint, Fraser."

"Hardly," he muttered but it was too quiet for Ray to catch who was already rummaging around on the table.

"Hey what are those purple ones for?" Ray interrupted his thoughts.

"Ah, those are anticonvulsants – to prevent seizures. It's only for a few days."

They were almost finished with breakfast when Ray looked at Fraser with a peculiar expression on his face.

"I don't feel so good Fraser…" he gripped the tabletop lightly and Fraser's brow creased.

"In what sense Ray?"

"Kinda off balance… dunno, feels a bit as if the chair I'm sitting on is unsteady."

Fraser's face cleared. "That would be the Neurontin, the anticonvulsants. It might take a while to figure out the right dosage. The doctor warned that this might be a possible side effect."

"Great…just great," Ray muttered frustrated, pushing the remains of his food around on his plate.

"Ray I—"

"No, it's alright. This sucks, 's all." Ray's fingers twitched and told more about his nervousness than his outburst had given away.

Fraser tried to explain how sorry he was; he opened his mouth, fully intending to apologize to Ray but no sound came out. What could he say? And what good would it do?

He felt even worse when he caught Ray diligently mapping the bald spot around his wound a little while later when he thought Fraser wasn't looking. Ray's look was pained and his fingers were touching the naked skin very softly. Fraser bit his lip and looked away.

How could he ever redeem his debt?

An hour more passed before Fraser was unable to remain scooped up inside of Ray's apartment any longer.

"Ray, I'm going to take Diefenbaker out for a walk. Would you like to accompany me?"

And Ray tried to suppress the motion but didn't quite manage it. His fingers were halfway up to touch the bald spot before he remembered his move and settled his hand on the back of his neck.

"Uh, thanks Fraser. I-I think I'll pass for today. Maybe tomorrow? Give me a bit of time to get back some energy, you know?"

Fraser nodded mutely, the smile frozen on his face.

Outside, Dief turned in the direction of the park.

"Dief, we'll have to make a little detour today, I'm afraid." Dief looked up puzzled when Fraser led them toward the city center.

He returned to find Ray balancing on a swivel chair to reach a box on top of his wardrobe.

"Ray!" Fraser exclaimed and managed to catch the box Ray was trying to retrieve before it crashed to the floor.

Ray cursed silently and held his head.

"You shouldn't be lifting anything for the next few days," Fraser said reproachfully.

"Yeah, yeah," Ray snapped. "I'm not an invalid, okay? Besides, it wasn't all that heavy."

Fraser compressed his lips into a thin line and refrained from arguing. He understood Ray, he really did, and he had the utmost sympathy for Ray's difficulty to handle his own helplessness.

"I'm sure it's got nothing to do with the weight of the box," he said placatory. "But a swivel chair is really the least ideal support to use when trying to retrieve something from some other location," Fraser looked at the case in his hands. "May I ask what it is you were trying to retrieve?"

"CDs," Ray rubbed his head in embarrassment. "Thought I might get to do some dancing since I can't do shit otherwise."

Fraser's lips parted involuntarily at the thought of Ray dancing.

Ray settled down on the rug in the living room to rifle the contents of the cardboard box. Fraser left him a bit of privacy for this task and went to the kitchen to prepare something to eat for dinner.

If he stayed with Ray in the living room he was only bound to stare, to constantly reassure himself that Ray was indeed alright. He opened the door of the fridge and remembered again that he should thank Francesca for coming in and preparing everything before Ray had been released on the next day.

"Hey Frase, whatcha doing?" Ray called out from the living room.

"I'm preparing dinner," he called back.

"Why? It's only—" Ray's answer was left hanging when he looked at the clock in confusion. "Huh, weird."

The same instant Ray stood up to have a look at the clock Fraser remembered that the clock had stopped – because he had taken the batteries out around half past three this morning.

He came into the living room when Ray was already flipping the clock over to change the batteries. His hands stopped in the middle of their movement and Ray frowned at the empty battery compartment.

"Ah, I took them out," and when that didn't seem to satisfy Ray by way of an answer he elaborated with a crack of the neck, "the ticking was distracting me so I removed the batteries to be able to sleep."

Ray nodded thoughtfully. "Sure, knock yourself out. I'll just—" he gestured with the clock, "leave this as it is then." He put the clock back on the wall.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it."

Ray's gaze followed Fraser's retreating form as he went back into the kitchen. _Trouble sleeping? That man can sleep through an avalanche without any problems!_

He sat down again, turning one of the CD cases around in his hands while he pondered Fraser's strange remark. He was pretty sure that Fraser hadn't been lying… but Fraser had a way of lying where he stuck so close to the truth that it was mostly a lie in disguise because usually the lie was simply in the stuff he left out.

Ray puzzled a little while longer about it but Fraser had seemed fine otherwise and dinner was a comfortable affair and also gave no reason to doubt Fraser's simple statement. Maybe the Mountie was simply a little on edge as well. Ray could get that the last few days – hell, since this assignment had started – hadn't been easy for him either.

After dinner Ray swayed a little bit around the room to Ella Fitzgerald while Fraser pretended to read. Ray's hips moved softly from side to side, his feet moving in a basic box step, his arms hanging loosely at his side, and Ella's sweet, mournful voice in the air.

Fraser was mesmerized. He tried not to stare too much but Ray had his eyes closed and seemed to be dancing more for his own relaxation than any need to impress so Fraser watched him guardedly over the edge of his book.

Ray was so very beautiful like this. All this wiry strength compressed into his light frame and all that manic energy kindled down to a warm glow that turned his limbs into liquid and made his movements effortless, fluid and graceful.

Ray hummed quietly along now and then, skillfully avoiding the couch table, and his lips relaxed into a soft smile.

_God…_ Fraser thought. He had never been this in love with anyone ever before. It was terrifying… too precious.

The tracks moved fluently from one to the next and Fraser had lost every feeling of time. When the last notes fluttered through the speakers Ray's dancing stopped. He smiled satisfied but he was breathing hard and Fraser had a brief moment of guilt, should he have stopped Ray's exertions? Reminded him not to over-exert himself?

But Ray looked tired and happy and Fraser was glad that he had been too immersed in Ray's dancing to interrupt him with rational thought and medical advice.

Ray came to a halt in front of Fraser, his blue eyes filled with merriment.

"Sleep in the bed tonight?" He said clearly. Ray was so calm about this and Fraser was amazed how Ray could simply come out and ask something like this. Panic rose up inside of him. He couldn't—no, he couldn't. It was dangerous and… his self-control was feeble as it was and… no, he would say no.

"Please," Ray's smile was shy and a little sad.

Fraser's insides cringed at the sight. Never did he want to make Ray sad but… no, this was risking too much, asking too much of him and—

"Not to do anything… just…" Ray shrugged self-consciously, his shoulders moving in a fluid arc, "just to sleep," he finished softly.

Fraser briefly closed his eyes. It was impossible to deny Ray this small wish— after everything he had done, after all the sorrow he had caused, Ray was entitled to ask for much more than this.

And yet this felt like the beginning of a slippery slope, like the first transgression that might lead to more.

"Yes," his voice shook slightly on these three little letters.

"Greatness," Ray whispered with another one of those soft smiles.

And Ray kept true to his words. They lay in bed, side by side and it didn't take more than a few minutes for Ray's features to relax, giving in to the pull of sleep.

Fraser continued to watch him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the jaw slack and the lips softly parted. His hand was mere inches away from Ray's and yet he didn't dare to touch him. What if this was all an illusion? He spread his hand flat over the bed sheet and closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by the regular sound of Ray's breathing.

**TBC… **


	10. Chapter 10

_**Mixed Signals 10**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ PG

_**Words:**_ ~4.100

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Summary:**_Ray is finally allowed to go home but it's still a long way to recovery. Fraser's there with him for every step of the way... but he's busy battling his own demons

**Part 10**

**Feedback Welcome! **

Ray was going to go insane, he just knew it. It had been 5 days and this was—argh—this was excruciating. Sitting at home doing nothing while everyone was handling him with kid gloves was beyond frustrating.

The meds were still making him nauseous and the wound had started to itch like a motherfucker a day ago. And if Fraser told him one more time – in that infuriating calm way – that the stitches would come out in two days he would throw something at that big Canadian head.

He took a deep breath and circled his living room again in a quick one-two step, throwing punches at the air; and one more round, a quick step around the couch table –bam- another punch aimed just to the left of the kitchen counter.

The music blared from the speakers and Ray continued shadow boxing, trying to get the angriness and the pent-up energy out of his system.

He wasn't angry at Fraser, not really.

Just moody from sitting around, too much time spent doing nothing and the stupid walks around the neighborhood weren't doing shit for him. Walking? What kind of exercise was that supposed to be? Old folks 'walked' when they felt like doing something; Ray went and kicked someone in the head.

"…Now, we're gonna reach another whole new level, grabbin' the light on the run from the devil (watch out)…" The beat pumped through him and he shook his shoulders loose.

He'd just like to forget about the whole incident – get rid of the stitches, have the bruises on his face healed; the wound covered by hair again and be done with it. He was fine –dammit! Sure he wasn't back to form yet but he was alright!

No reason for Fraser to be hovering at his back all the time as if he was expecting him to keel over any minute. Hell—even Stella had called and sounded close to tears all the way down in Florida!

"I'm the bomb and I'm 'bout to blow up…" Ray grinned like a wolf and spun around again, feet flitting over the floor, his arms raised in a defensive pose. Christ! It wasn't even more than a few songs and he was already sweaty. Wasn't this supposed to get better?

"…I'm the bomb and I'm 'bout …to BLOW UP…"

Ray came to a standstill when the last bars of the song trailed off and pressed his hands against his thighs, panting. Fuck! But tired was better; better than this itching feeling that made his skin crawl. Exhaustion was his buddy.

Once the anger dissipated, guilt started to creep up on him. He shouldn't have snapped at Fraser like that… Ray sighed and wiped a bead of sweat away from his brow.

He could still see Fraser's tight-lipped expression before he had taken his hat and left the apartment with Diefenbaker.

Fuck! Ray kicked his all-together innocent couch in frustration.

If Fraser just didn't try to be so damn helpful all the time. Ray wasn't fragile and he had been whacked around before – he still had most of his brains.

He stripped off his sweat soaked shirt and traipsed to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

This was so stupid! It didn't even have anything to do with the fucking head wound! He already hadn't been able to remember what kind of laundry detergent he had stored in the cupboard before he got hit!

He usually just grabbed whatever was at hand at the supermarket when he remembered that he needed to buy some. Just like Fraser to keep track of his supplies. And had he asked Ray for the brand of his hair gel –hell, he could even have listed the ingredients of his favorite product. But no! Fraser had to ask after laundry! Laundry for fuck's sake!

He turned on the water and adjusted the temperature to get a little more heat for his tense muscles.

And when Ray couldn't remember – as if the fate of the world depended on Ray's choice of washing supplies – Fraser paled and started off with this whole bunch of questions to check if Ray's memory was shot to hell. "Can you remember what you had for dinner yesterday?" and "What about the telephone number of your parents?" or even "What grade did you have in math in 6th grade?" (and how anybody should be able to remember that was completely beyond Ray) and it all pointed toward a Fraser-style freak-out and Ray was sure that the Mountie was about 5 inches away from calling the hospital for a check up so he had turned toward his favorite defence mechanism: attack.

It all went downhill from there. He had tried to explain but Fraser never listened and then Ray accused him of blowing everything out of proportions which led to Fraser insisting that "Ray, really, this is hardly a joking matter—" and then he had exploded that "of fucking course not!" because this was about his head and since when did Fraser know what was going on there anyway and then the Mountie had looked hurt and— Ray sighed and worked the shampoo into his hair. It had been a lost cause.

Jesus! You could think that Ray was permanently damaged or more dead than alive or something the way Fraser acted.

Yeah, yeah, and he himself didn't make things any better at the moment either. He couldn't help it, being scooped up made him mad. He wanted to get back to work and not feel tired all the time and his head was still hurting and—no, Ray probably wasn't the easiest person to be around at the moment.

He could just do with a little bit less niggling and over protectiveness and – hell, if he was really honest, which he was mostly trying not to be because he usually found stuff out about himself that he never really wanted to know whenever he strayed into honest territory, he could use some comfort. A hug would be nice, there, he could admit it. Didn't make him a wuss or any less of a man.

That everyone else was worried about him like crazy just made him feel worse...wait a minute. Come to think of it… when was the last time Fraser had even touched him? Or brushed against him on one of their walks?

Ray stood dumbfounded under the spray of the shower for a few seconds, his hands still soapy and frozen in his hair.

"Ahh! Shit!" He started to wipe frantically at his eyes when the shampoo started to run down and almost slipped.

See, everyone could just stop worrying about him getting whacked; it was just as likely that he got himself killed in the shower.

Ray turned the water off and grabbed a towel. When he stepped outside of the bathroom a few minutes later his eyes hit upon the small table next to the entrance door. He went over there and grabbed something blue from it. Ray smiled and carried it with him to the couch.

He turned it around in his hands.

It was a baseball cap from the Chicago Cubs. Fraser had given it to him the morning of his second day back at home.

Ray's smile turned into a grin. Fraser had tried to tell him that it had simply caught his eye – more specifically, that Dief found it "particularly apt" – on one of their afternoon walks which is why he bought it for Ray.

But Ray knew him… it was because Ray had felt so damn self-conscious about the bald spot from his surgery. He wasn't ashamed or anything but he didn't want people to stare at the stitches all the time – at least strangers should treat him like same old Ray Kowalski instead of a china doll.

And he appreciated it that Fraser hadn't called him on it when he gave him the cap.

His fingers traced the 'C' on the front of the cap. He really couldn't remember the last time Fraser had touched him.

His eyebrows drew together and the crease between them deepened. Why the hell not?

They had always been touching constantly, or at least had been so close that they were almost touching all the time.

His head started to pound again and Ray took another painkiller with practiced ease – one could almost think he had been doing this for more than a few days.

He even remembered that Fraser was very careful not to touch him when they were sleeping in Ray's bed at night. Just the first two nights Ray had been so tired that he hadn't thought about it and then – right – he had squeezed Fraser's hand yesterday night.

Because he had had that dream again the night before where he was stumbling around disoriented, trying to find something and time was running out but he was just getting more lost by the second and Fraser… Fraser felt safe like nobody's business.

So he had closed his fingers around Fraser's and… Fraser had jumped – there was really no better word for it – like electrocuted or desperately surprised or something equally freaky.

Ray turned the cap around in his hands again, swallowing the hurt. Why?

But he knew already that he wouldn't ask Fraser. He was too afraid of the answer.

He got dressed and Fraser was still gone when sudden inspiration struck him. Perfect! He grabbed his keys, pulled the cap on and went out.

Ray was whistling when he let himself back into his flat a little while later. The moment he got the door open he saw that Fraser was already halfway up from the couch, a look of anxious anticipation on his face.

"Ray!" Fraser sounded relieved.

Ray was confused for a second. What? Did Fraser think he couldn't even manage to get back home on his own?

But before he could say anything the expression was gone from Fraser's face, replaced by a careful smile, leaving Ray wondering if he had even seen it.

"Uhm… hey, there." Ray lifted his arm to show off what he bought. "I got us ice cream."

Which was as much of an apology as he could muster. Fraser seemed to recognize the gesture for what it was. He smiled at him.

"That's very thoughtful of you Ray. I visited the police department on my walk to keep the lieutenant and your colleagues updated on your progress. Everyone says 'hello' and that I should tell you to come by again on your next walk."

Ray grinned. "Hey, I've been there—when? Two days ago? Hell, they won't let me work but I should drop by in my free time? – Not a good deal."

They sat at Ray's table, each a bowl of ice cream in front of them and Fraser was looking again at Ray with this fond look in his eyes. It felt good, Ray thought. As if nothing could make Fraser as happy as just seeing Ray. Why then was he so distanced all the time?

He almost asked but… he liked Fraser looking at him like that. And maybe one fight was enough for one day? Yeah…maybe he was just a coward but he didn't have it in him to fight.

But now that Ray had noticed how Fraser kept a definite distance between them he felt it in such an acute way that it was almost the only thing that occupied his mind – that and the fact that there just wasn't much else than Fraser to distract himself.

Two days later the stitches came out and the doctor told him that he could lay off the anticonvulsants that made him feel woozy. Ray should have felt exuberant. He should have felt like a million bucks.

Somehow all he felt was tired. His bruises still weren't completely healed – at least the purple one on his cheek stubbornly remained and the spot around his wound was still bald. The doctor was almost ecstatic about Ray's condition which in turn seemed to relax Fraser a good deal – so much in fact that he stretched out one hand in Ray's direction before he hesitated a second and Ray closed his eyes because –dammit, this hurt! But then – very softly and almost reverently, Fraser's fingers closed over his shoulder to squeeze him once before he pulled his hand carefully away.

Ray soaked up the touch as if Fraser could make his hair grow back and his bruise vanish if he only touched him long enough. It felt good… not as defeated as he had before.

Fraser drove them back, sneaking glances at Ray in between. It was a curious feeling, almost as if Fraser couldn't really believe that Ray was going to be fine. And that was a damn weird thought because there wasn't much difference between his condition after the appointment at the hospital and before – except for the stitches, of course.

Ray made coffee for the two of them and puzzled some more about Fraser's odd behavior. He felt the accusations on the tip of his tongue, felt himself bristle, felt his muscles beginning to clench. No way was he going to start another fight.

Ray always ended up angry when he didn't understand something and Fraser was so damn good at not saying anything while he was talking a mile a minute that Ray always got frustrated and then started shouting and then Fraser was hurt and silent in the end.

Instead Ray flopped down on the couch and switched the TV on. Fraser settled in next to him and took a sip of his coffee.

Ray flicked through a few channels before he found something he could stand. He needn't have bothered; he couldn't concentrate on it anyway. His mind was still stuck on the Fraser angle and Ray had never been good at keeping still while he was thinking something through.

The movie played on the screen while Ray's mind provided his own mental movie with all the scenes that had happened between them since the fatal night of the kiss – Jesus, what a load of stuff had happened since then! It was a little overwhelming. Still, things between Fraser and him had definitely looked better before the whole factory disaster.

Since then Fraser was almost afraid of touching him. Why? Why the fuck should he be afraid?

He took his mug and gulped down a mouthful of coffee to have at least something to hold in his hands. He felt like pacing but then Fraser would ask what was wrong and then they would be at the point where Ray hadn't wanted to fight to begin with, so no, pacing was out.

He really wanted to let it rest. It was probably just his overactive imagination – he was real good at that. One hit to the head and the whole world was out to get him. Or it was because Fraser was mostly living at Ray's place at the moment and maybe he was just afraid that something would happen when he came closer?

Ray crossed his ankles in order to keep still and tried to concentrate on the screen. Fraser reached out for his coffee and Ray got a memory flash of Fraser's hesitation to touch him at the hospital. Something clicked.

It was almost nondescript. A mere phantom of a thought. Ray had a hunch. Taking into consideration the fact that Fraser did indeed have a thing for him, but was afraid of who-knows-what haunted Mounties instead of the usual relationship issues, and that Ray got hit and—

Ray was on a roll here.

He was unto something and he knew it. His toe started to tap out a nervous rhythm under the couch table.

Fraser noticed Ray's tapping foot the same moment that Ray grabbed the remote to turn the TV off.

"Ray, what's—"

"Gimme your hands." Ray said on a whim. His whole face alight with the possibility of testing his new theory

"I—excuse me?" Fraser asked with a frown.

"Come on," Ray urged and held out his own hand in invitation. Still frowning Fraser slowly extended his hand.

When Fraser's fingertips touched Ray's palm a low smile spread over Ray's face. He closed his hand over Fraser's and reached out to take Fraser's other hand, too.

"Now close your eyes," Ray said softly and Fraser looked questioningly at their joined hands.

"Trust me on this, go on, close your eyes," Ray repeated and Fraser, swallowing quietly, obeyed.

Ray's heart was beating so rapidly as if it was trying to jump out of his chest. He wet his lips and pulled Fraser's hands up to his face. He pressed the palms loosely against his face and heard Fraser gasp softly.

Ray felt the warm skin against his stubble, the beginning of a 5 o' clock shadow and moved the fingers up, to follow the curve of his brows, down the bridge of his nose and moved Fraser's thumbs softly over his lower lip.

Fraser's fingers trembled ever so slightly. Ray covered Fraser's hands with his own and held them in place, cradling his cheeks.

"Frase…" Ray whispered. "I'm still here."

And Fraser's face crunched up in pain. But his fingers stayed warm against Ray's skin.

"I didn't die, alright? I'm here, flesh and blood buddy." As if to prove his point he pulled Fraser's fingers along his throat until the strong, steady beating of his pulse vibrated under the fingertips. Fraser swallowed heavily.

"'m not going anywhere, you hear me?"

Jerkily, Fraser nodded. His brows drew together to form a sharp crease and he licked his lips.

And then, very careful, Fraser fingers stroked the skin of Ray's throat, over the rhythmic beating of Ray's heart.

Ray's lips relaxed into a smile.

"Touch me," he murmured, his voice a little rough.

The movement of Fraser's fingers was a sudden onslaught. With barely concealed urgency his fingers flitted over Ray's face; skimming over the now closed eyelids, the shape of his ears, back to the lips only to move upward again.

An aching tenderness in the touch that left Ray raw and exposed. He swallowed drily, whispering "it's okay" again as if those words were an incantation.

Slowly, Fraser's touch calmed down. It became less frantic, less filled with despair. With his eyes still closed, Fraser mapped out every detail of Ray's features. The small scar near his chin where he had hit the stairs when he was six years old, the curve of his lips, the tender skin beneath his eyes.

Words spilled over Ray's lips, called into being by Fraser's gentle touch; giving Fraser something back, Ray's very own inapt and clumsy way of trying to soothe. Even though words had never been his friends, even though he always said the wrong things at the wrong time, but because Fraser needed to hear them.

"They need a crowbar to pry me away, Frase" and then – a little more honest – "I don't wanna die either, alright? I'm not about to kick the bucket any sooner than I have to" and Fraser's hands began to roam, to expand their territory to make Ray completely their own.

Smoothing over his shoulders, down his arms and still Fraser kept his eyes closed – a childlike expression on his face, one of wonder and concentration.

And that Fraser wasn't looking at him – was only looking with his hands – made the words come easier. Ray watched that now painfully young looking face and continued talking in quiet, rushed tones.

"But I have faults, okay? Just ask Stell," and he couldn't quite keep the bitter chuckle inside but Fraser's agile fingers smoothed over the corners of his mouth, carrying the bitterness away and Ray took a quick, shallow breath before he continued. "And I'm a dumb bastard and I get mad and I jump Bogart all over you but I—" _I need you_.

The fundamental truth of this realization came with such force that Ray wasn't prepared for it. Jesus... when had this thing he had for Fraser become so intense?

All that came out was a choked off gurgle. Fraser's eyes opened and for a second Ray really admired the fine tuned senses of the guy.

They looked at each other for an immeasurable second and finally, with Fraser's fingers still stroking down his neck, staring into those eyes, Ray really understood something for the first time. Fraser might be driven by justice and all his high opinions and great expectations and all that, sure, but that was only half of the story.

There was an ocean of loss... and fear... and longing written in that face which was so used to being schooled into a professional mask that it explained a lot about Fraser's own style of daredevilry. If emotions so strong were mixed up equally in a man's heart that man was bound to do strange things.

Maybe it was all just a way of running away from one thing, like losing his parents so young, at the same time that he was running for all the right reasons, to fight for what he believed in, to save innocent lives... and maybe, in some moments, it really didn't matter to him whether he lived or died in the process.

That thought caused a shiver to run down Ray's spine. There was a point –and he always loved that about cracking a suspect— when you hit upon some hard and fast truth, so inherent that there were no two ways about it. And when that happened you just _knew_ if the miserable, little jerk was lying or not because you had had a glimpse of the very core of their being.

It was funny in a tragic way that a man who acted like superman all the time, and who didn't even need a cape for it, was actually just desperately looking for some sort of cape that might provide a shield between him and all the ugly things of the world. Hell, yeah, Ray knew all about looking for that one true thing.

And Fraser looked so horrible lost, sitting on the couch completely frozen in position – or maybe it was that fight or flight moment? – but his fingers were still warm against Ray's skin and his eyes were still fixed on Ray's as if he could read him like a book, just pick a page and jump from Ray's most humiliating moments to his deepest desires or to his most childish ideas. Who knew? Maybe, right at this moment, Fraser could see all that, the way Ray felt exposed and opened up like an old wound that was almost healed before someone tore it open again.

Looking at those blue eyes, and the caution in them, Ray managed to get out the words he had been sure he would never, ever, be able to say to Fraser.

"Don't go..." The words he had never wanted to say for fear of the answer, "...stay with me..." The question he had never posed for fear of asking too much, that asking Fraser to stay would mean condemning him to be unhappy.

But what was Fraser still doing here if not waiting for this question?

And for a moment Fraser looked so heartbroken that Ray wanted to take it all back, sure that Fraser couldn't say yes. And he didn't.

But before Ray could even utter a single word Fraser lips were pressed to his, hot and desperate, fingers pulling his face closer while those lips burned an imprint onto Ray's.

Ray overcame his surprise and managed to get his own hands on some skin, stroking reassuringly along Fraser's smooth cheeks until some of the desperation left Fraser's kiss.

It turned gentle, soft lips moving indulgently against his own, a slow dance. The feel of slick tongues drew a small moan of Ray and without any conscious effort there suddenly wasn't any room separating them anymore, there was no space left between them.

And still Ray was so hungry for Fraser's touch, soaking up the warmth of Fraser's body, drawing him closer and closer and the long, languid kisses surprised Ray. He hadn't thought that either of them could be so careful about this, that Fraser could admit how important this was... or how scary. Or that Ray himself would ever be able to be so honest with himself.

But the achingly sweet kisses spoke volumes. Maybe it was enough that no words would be needed beyond it.

At least Fraser didn't seem in any hurry to regain his speech, if his slightly shaking fingers in Ray's hair and those wet lips pressing against Ray's with utmost devotion were anything to go by – and body language was something Ray had always been particularly sensitive to.

Ray was all over that. Maybe lady karma was finally paying her dues after all of the cruel games she had played with Ray over the last few weeks.

**TBC...** in the final part 11: The Aftermath or Wrestling with Happiness Chicago-Style


	11. Chapter 11

_**Mixed Signals 11**_

_**Author:**_ Tatau

_**Fandom**_**:** Due South

_**Pairing**_**:** Fraser/RayK

_**Rating:**_ NC-17

_**Words:**_ ~14.000

_**Disclaimer:**_ Due South is the property of Alliance Atlantis. Written for fun not for profit

_**Summary:**_Being in love isn't enough. You have to build a relationship to make it work. It's a good thing that Ray's and Fraser's insecurities are so very compatible. Between Ray's head-against-the-wall attitude and Fraser sexually insatiable appetite things should work out well... okay, maybe a few life threatening situations might also help things along...

**Part 11/11**

**Feedback Welcome!**

Kissing Fraser wasn't like anything Ray had ever done so far; it just didn't compare. Fraser was intense like that. Ray was pretty sure that, if Fraser continued with his kisses, he probably wouldn't be able to remember his own name for much longer.

Fraser had almost wrestled Ray out of his shirt and even his fly was already open – and when had that happened? It seemed that once started there was no stopping him. And maybe that was what Fraser had been afraid of.

Definitely time to get even.

Ray managed to get his hands on Fraser's shirt which wasn't exactly easy the way Fraser's hands where everywhere and therefore always in the way. With quick moves Ray snuck his fingers underneath the hem of Fraser's shirt to stroke over soft skin.

"_Ray_..." Fraser growled dangerously and Ray jumped when his dick twitched at the sound of that voice.

"Yeah... hell, anything... come on, come on..." Ray murmured, trying to pull Fraser's shirt off when strong hands gripped his own.

"Ray we shouldn't," it sounded forced out of Fraser's throat as if he was producing the sound directly in his chest. The shiver that caused distracted Ray for a second so that it took a moment to make sense of what Fraser had said.

"Oh _yes_, we should," Ray said with his lips already back at the corner of Fraser's mouth. The moan this drew only added fuel to Ray's hunger.

"We definitely should. Now, now, _now_," and Ray dropped his hands in apparent surrender until Fraser's grip relaxed so that Ray's nimble fingers were free again and could start to work on Fraser's pants.

Fraser snarled and pulled Ray's hands away, leaning over him so that Ray was pressed backwards against the couch, his hands held above his head.

He blinked up at Fraser whose face was mere inches away from his own, an almost fierce expression on his face and Ray licked his lips, the pupils dilated before he raised his head a little to lick Fraser's bottom lip.

Fraser groaned and lifted his face away.

"Ray," the name was said with such longing that Ray felt another shiver running down his spine, he could get used to hearing his name that way. If his cock got any harder his erection might become a permanent fixture.

"You need to— we need to..." Fraser took a breath and focused his gaze on Ray's eyes, "you're still recovering, Ray." It seemed to take him an awful lot of effort to keep talking and if that wasn't a turn on Ray didn't know what was. "It would be irresponsible of me and highly selfish to put my own desires first. The proper—"

"Fuck _proper_," Ray spat in abrupt exasperation, pressing his groin up against Fraser to get some friction for his unabated erection that Fraser was so good at ignoring.

"Oh." Just that one small sound, it was beautiful. Fraser licked his lips and looked momentarily at a loss for words. So Ray hooked his foot over Fraser's hip and pulled—he gasped when their jeans clad erections met again.

Fraser dropped his head and moaned into the curve of Ray's shoulder. "_God_, Ray... this is," and the guy actually had the willpower to pull his hip away, "this hardly seems prudent."

Ray angled his face upwards again and sneaked his tongue into Fraser's mouth quick and dirty, thrusting against Fraser's tongue in a languid rhythm before he slowly pulled away. Fraser had his eyes closed, looking stunned.

If Fraser backed out now Ray would probably never get another chance. Maybe this was his one chance to convince Fraser—and Ray was very convincing in this area of expertise.

"It's hardly _prudent_," Ray pushed up against Fraser again to be rewarded with another moan, "to let your buddy die from blue balls and I swear to god this is looking extremely likely at the moment Fraser. My cock is so hard it's painful—" Fraser gasped and rubbed his lips against the tender skin of Ray's throat.

Ray grinned. Man, did he like a man with a good imagination. "Hell, I probably don't even last longer than a few strokes," he murmured against Fraser's ear. "Or would you like to use your mouth?" Fraser breath hitched.

And Ray nodded with a smirk. "Yeah, you like to touch everything with your tongue... _God_," Ray moaned quietly, carried away by his own fantasy, "Just thinking about you _licking_ my cock drives me crazy, I'd come the moment you take it into that proper mouth of yours, Jesus... tell me," and Ray felt the soft tremor of Fraser's hands where they were gripping his own, "can you smell how turned on I am?"

"...yes..." Fraser choked, "oh God, yes..." and suddenly everything was lost in a flurry of motion. Ray's shirt was flung to the floor and his jeans were pulled almost roughly down his legs and with almost no help from Ray he was suddenly lying naked on his couch and Fraser was licking and kissing every inch of skin he could find.

"Jesus... Jesus, Fraser..." Ray gasped and let his head fall back and now that he wasn't looking anymore what Fraser's wicked mouth was doing to him he could finally make out that Fraser was still speaking.

"I can't..." and Fraser licked a stripe from his navel all the way to his hipbone, "I really can't Ray," before he painted a wet trail around Ray's left nipple, "I'm sorry but I can't..." and Ray was gasping helplessly and thrusting against thin air. But this time he understood what Fraser was trying to say.

"It's—oh God, it's okay. You don't have to stop Fraser—gnh—" Fraser bit lightly into Ray's right nipple, soothing the sting with the tip of his tongue before he sucked it into his mouth.

"Don't stop-ahh, don't stop—just don't— Fraser," Ray panted, arching his back to get closer to Fraser's lips.

"_Jesus_," Ray cried out when that agile tongue licked around the head of his cock, lapping up pre-come like honey.

Don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop was running through his head or maybe he was shouting it—as hoarse as his voice sounded it was hard to tell what he was screaming all he knew was that he had never felt anything as unbelievably hot as Fraser's mouth on him, swallowing him again and again.

And Ray's hips rose and fell in sync with that wicked mouth, his fingers twisted into Fraser's hair and if Ray had had any doubts about chocking Fraser he forgot about them now.

With an eagerness that was rapidly killing him, Fraser was devouring his cock, tongue and heat everywhere and no matter how deep he went down on him it didn't seem to satisfy Fraser who always went back for more and Ray was just along for the ride.

Riding the wave higher and higher and maybe it was just his imagination that Fraser's mouth was almost unbearably hot or that it felt impossible that Fraser was swallowing him so far down but it didn't matter because nothing had ever been so, so good.

"F-Frase..." Ray stuttered only half-coherent but Fraser only tightened his lips and Ray cried out in answer.

"Oh god," he groaned, "you gotta-Fraser I'm—" but the wave was already crashing down on him, and Fraser pressed two fingers firmly underneath his balls and a strangled sob was torn from Ray's throat as he came, his cock pulsing in Fraser mouth who swallowed again and again and the pleasure was so acute that Ray lost all other senses for a moment, the whole world reduced to that spot where Fraser's lips were closed around him, where that tongue kept stroking him.

When Fraser's lips released him his legs were still shaking. A second later Fraser's warm body was covering his own, and that talented tongue was back, begging for entrance into Ray's mouth and Ray opened up helplessly, so lost in his need and awash with sensations.

He could taste himself when he sucked on Fraser's tongue and Fraser's fingers were stroking soothingly through his hair.

It might have been one minute; it might have been ten but at some point Ray's heart rate returned to normal and the aftershocks stopped. Fraser kissed him tenderly and then he pulled him up and off the couch.

Ray let himself be pulled, drunk on his orgasm and its afterglow. They entered the bedroom and Fraser pressed him down on the bed. He joined him there a moment later to coax yet more pleasure from Ray's body.

Ray was writhing into the touch, completely fucked out but unable to resist Fraser's fingers. When Fraser's fingers trailed down his hipbone to stroke the soft inside of his thigh Ray shivered and spread his legs further.

And those fingers trailed lower, until they were stroking softly over Ray's opening and Ray gave a low moan—Jesus, who would've thought that Fraser the Pure would come loose in the bedroom?

"Ray..." Fraser murmured hotly against Ray's abdomen. "I want—can I—"

"Yeah, yeah," Ray interrupted. "Anything, Frase." At the moment Ray would have agreed to any- and everything. Fraser's answering moan was breathed hotly against Ray's skin before he kicked into action.

With that damn Mountie efficiency it took him next to no time to get undressed as well and to get the lube and the rubbers from Ray's beside drawer.

But Ray had almost no time to appreciate Fraser in all his naked glory before all that Canadian hospitality was again focused on him.

Slick fingers resumed their stroking and then Fraser's mouth returned to Ray's. While Ray was busy mapping out every detail of Fraser's mouth two fingers slid inside—Ray gasped and arched his back.

"Oh god..." He choked, fingers clawing at Fraser's upper arm for support while his hip picked up the rhythm of Fraser's strokes.

Ray moved back against Fraser's fingers, a harsh counterpoint to the rhythm as if his hips had never done anything else. Fraser was talking again, speaking words against his skin but Ray couldn't hear him over the pounding of his blood and his own ragged breathing.

Fraser pushed another finger in and Ray couldn't wait any longer, "Yes—ah, come on Fraser—oh God... I..." Ray bucked when Fraser's tongue travelled along the underside of his cock.

"—_fuck_—" Ray gasped and shuddered.

"Yes..." Fraser growled, voice like gravel, pulling his fingers out to pull Ray's legs over his shoulders and spreading him open.

In one smooth move Fraser pressed against Ray's opening and pushed in. Ray threw his head back, panting open mouthed in a vain attempt to get more air into his lungs while his body stretched to fit around Fraser.

"So good... oh God... Ray," Fraser groaned and the last bit of restraint went flying out the window. He pulled back and then all pretence of carefulness was gone, hips snapping forward in fast thrusts and Ray cried out when Fraser hit his prostate again and again.

Ray's cock came back to life again with every push and Ray was gasping along with Fraser, trying to keep his eyes open to watch Fraser—the face completely lost in pleasure and then Fraser clenched his teeth, the rhythm of his thrusts turned erratic and when Fraser opened his eyes to curl his fingers around Ray's renewed erection Ray was suddenly right there on the edge with him.

Fraser came, moaning Ray's name, arms shaking with the strain of holding himself up and Ray's hand flopped down from its spot on Fraser's arm, smearing the come that was cooling on his stomach. Ray was so limp now he was pretty sure he would never be able to come again.

Carefully, Fraser pulled out and settled next to Ray. He drew him into an embrace, kissing his lips gently again and again, all the while murmuring "Ray... wonderful Ray..."

Ray was idly stroking Fraser's arm, trying to ignore the drying mess on his upper body. Ray could tell the exact moment when Fraser's brain made an appearance again. He had expected this moment – wouldn't have been too bad to miss out on it though.

Fraser stiffened almost imperceptibly, trying to pull away as unobtrusively as possible, looking anywhere but at Ray.

"Ah..." there was a short pause where Fraser licked his lips, "Is your head alright, Ray?"

This was so funny Ray had to swallow the laugh that rose in his throat. Benton Fraser, naked and looking extremely well fucked, with his hair all mussed – and who would have thought it was even allowed to do that? – actually had the nerve to ask such a practical question with this completely polite And-How-Are-You-Feeling-Today tone.

Ray smirked. "It's gonna be a bit sensitive for a while... two orgasms can do that to a guy," he reached down to check the condition of his cock and Fraser's eyes followed the movement.

Ray trailed one finger lightly over the head of his cock.

"Yep, as I said. But give me an hour and I'm good to go."

Fraser blushed. "I didn't mean—I was talking about your head wound."

Ray reached out and stroked softly over Fraser's hand.

"I know, 'm fine. Just... don't do this to me, okay?"

Fraser frowned. "Do what Ray?"

Ray gestured along the length of Fraser's body. "You know, go all Mountie on me now."

The crease between Fraser's brows deepened. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. I am a Mountie – as you well know."

Ray sighed. "Yeah... but you don't have to be with me."

Fraser looked as if he wanted to interrupt so Ray rushed through the rest of his sentence. "You can be _Fraser_..." Ray shrugged, "you know... you. Hell, I'm not good at this stuff either but you can talk to me or whatever – just don't go running around telling yourself that this is a bad idea."

Ray squeezed his hand once, "'cause it isn't."

Fraser bit his lip and looked down at Ray's hand on his. God, Ray wished there was a handbook for this kinda thing. Being married should have prepared him for this stuff but somehow he never found the right words.

But Fraser knew him.

Maybe Fraser didn't need all the fancy words and the flowers and the expensive gifts for the right anniversaries.

Fraser was a guy who lived in his office because he felt that he didn't need more, he was all about courtesy and the simple things in life – like fresh air or clean water and all this stuff that no one really appreciated anymore nowadays so yeah, maybe Fraser didn't need the big, elaborate style the women on TV were always raving about.

All Fraser needed was someone to take a leap with him. A reason to risk the jump— Ray grabbed Fraser's hand with sudden urgency.

"Frase, you trust me right?" Ray's gaze focused on Fraser's eyes.

"Yes, of course Ray. Implicit—" Ray put one hand over Fraser's mouth – no reason to let him start again with the big words. Then they would never get the important stuff out.

"And we're partners?" Ray removed his hand again.

"Yes." The conviction in Fraser's tone made Ray feel warm all over.

"So you're my partner. And my friend, right?"

Fraser looked shocked that Ray would have to ask.

"Of course."

"We're a duet Fraser and a damn good one. This thing here is about partnership—so don't you dare and leave me in this alone Fraser."

He stabbed two fingers at Fraser's chest.

"And now? You with me or not?" Inside Ray's heart was beating a panicked say-yes, say-yes rhythm. Fraser could be a miserable bastard, how were you supposed to prove to someone how good things could be when they didn't even give you a chance in the first place?

Hell, Fraser had been the eye witness to his post-marriage stalking, had even called his determination 'admirable'—what was he afraid of? That Ray would just hightail it out of there the first chance he got? Not bloody likely.

Fraser's hand closed around Ray's fingers that were still pointing accusingly at his chest. He closed his eyes and didn't say a word.

And Ray waited with bated breath. Fraser's eyebrows drew together.

Shit. Double and triple shit. Fraser couldn't even say it.

Ray's breath caught in his throat. Shit, shit, shit. He had said it all wrong—or maybe he hadn't said enough or—he needed to get out of here.

He moved away, withdrawing his hands from Fraser's loose grasp. Ray turned around to climb down from the bed—just get away—he could already feel the tightness around his eyes. No need to dump his tears on Fraser on top of everything else.

One leg was already thrown over the edge of the mattress when strong arms pulled him back. Fraser's arms pressed him close against his warm chest.

"Ray—" and for a second longer Ray struggled against the grip because no answer might at least be better than hearing Fraser's excuse but Fraser didn't relent his hold, he simply held him tighter against his own body.

"Yes Ray," and he pressed hot kisses against the side of Ray's throat, "please," with sweet desperation in every touch that said want you, need you, love you, don't go and Ray slumped back in defeat. He turned his head to receive Fraser's kisses that told much more about all the stuff Fraser didn't or couldn't say anyway.

It was still two weeks before Ray was allowed to even think of showing his face at the 2-7 for work but if you could spend your days having sex it wasn't such a bad deal.

And apparently Fraser had a sex starved beast inside of him that was finally released—Fraser and sex? You would bet that he and prudence had never met. How someone with such proper language skills and manners could be so dirty in the bedroom was mind blowing.

Not that Ray was complaining, mind you. Fraser seemed to use sex as a way of reassuring himself that he did indeed have Ray and since sex with Fraser was one of the best things that had ever happened to Ray –and the fact that he didn't know how else to reassure Fraser—Ray initiated most of their sexual encounters, didn't mean that Fraser didn't take over as soon as they started to lose the clothes.

Yes, Ray's recovery period was suddenly looking much better.

A few days later Ray even managed the long walk all the way to the waterfront, along the pier and back. Diefenbaker seemed to be just as happy about that as Ray.

After dinner Ray took a spot on the couch and started to flick through the channels. He gave up long before Fraser could complain about the speed of Ray's channel surfing (the ongoing argument was that it was simply not humanly possible for Ray to even tell what he saw in those microseconds of glimpses between one channel and the next – Ray claimed to be gifted like that).

"God I can't stand one more evening of this junk. All I do is walk and watch TV," he groaned before he grinned at Fraser. "Okay, the sex is spectacular," Fraser hid his blush by taking a sip from his water glass, "but the TV program is actually killing the last of my brain cells—I swear if I lose one more I turn into a plant."

Fraser bit his lip to hide his smile.

"I could tell you a story if you'd like."

Ray weighed the options on that one carefully. Fraser's stories tended to be rather exhausting. Not to forget weird. And a helluva lot of times they didn't make any sense either.

Oh well. Wasn't as if he had much to lose.

"Can't be worse than anything they bring on TV," Ray shrugged.

"Thank you for your confidence in my entertainment abilities." Fraser answered drily. "What kind of story would you like to hear?"

Ray thought for a moment. Something where it would be terribly difficult to fit a Caribou into would be nice.

"How about… something about beginnings?" Ray asked meaningfully, stretching on the couch to put his feet in Fraser's lap.

"All right." And trust Fraser not even having to think about it for a second. Just throw him a key word and Fraser could talk about that for three hours straight without needing one second of thought.

"There is an Inuit myth about the origin of the marine animals." Fraser cleared his throat.

"In a small village, far away on the ice was a beautiful woman named Sedna and all the men from her tribe wanted to marry her but she rejected each and every one of them for one reason or another. One of the sled dogs, that her father was breeding, the strongest and fastest of them all, was deeply in love with her though—"

"A dog?" Ray interrupted confused.

"Yes Ray. And one cold and starlit night, with the Aurora Borealis above them, he turned into a man to be with her for one night, just before she came of age—"

"How?"

Fraser smoothed his thumb over his eyebrow. "I suppose with the help of another spirit. But that's not important right now. What is important is that Sedna fell in love with him too. She found courage, a kind heart and a good character in him. The next morning, however, her father found his daughter lying next to his best dog. They cast the dog out and decided to drown Sedna in the ocean."

"Whoa—because the man had been a dog?"

"They saw it as an omen of bad luck. So they rowed out to sea and threw her over board. But she gripped the rail with strong, cold fingers to prevent her death. So they cut off her fingers and when her fingers fell into the ocean they turned into the first seals. And Sedna sank down to the bottom of the ocean and became the ruler of the underworld and of all the animals."

"Fraser... that is one dark story."

"Ah yes. I'm afraid so."

"What's the point of it?"

"The point?"

"Yeah... is it 'don't fall in love with dogs' or 'take care of your fingers' or what?"

"There is no point Ray. It's a myth."

"That's stupid. Don't you know any stories that have a happy end?"

"Well, there is the story about the Inuit who try to find out how big the world is," Fraser paused for a second. "But I'm afraid they all die in the end."

Ray groaned.

It turned out that Fraser really didn't know any stories about the guy getting the girl.

Countless folk tales in which the girl drowned, was poisoned, stabbed, hanged, or died from mourning and sea shanties in which the hero never came back, married someone else, killed somebody or was killed himself –mostly a really grisly death, too – and it all ended in tears.

It was depressing.

"Fraser! Enough with the dead guys! You're worse than a slasher movie."

"Well, what about the story of Barrett's privateers? The shanty I sang on the Henry Allen?"

"What about it?"

"The protagonist returns back home in the end."

Ray looked at Fraser as if he had lost his mind.

"Fraser! He loses both his legs and it takes him six years before he returns home."

"All right, what about the story of Lou Scagnetti that I told you when we were trying to find Mr. Tucci's killer?"

"The one with the princess and the choke cherries?"

"Mh-hm."

"That's not a happy end."

Fraser looked surprised. "Why not? He refrains from eating her."

"That's not the same as a happy end. A happy end would be where she falls madly in love with him and they live happily ever after – and not only until she's sprinkled with lichen."

Fraser was a world class freak. Any story where no one got maimed or eaten and he considered it a love story. Ray wasn't the biggest fan of this world but at least he knew some nice stories about it. With stories like Fraser's Ray would have hung himself a long time ago.

Maybe it was a Canadian thing? Instead of looking where the grass was greener you looked for a desert and figured that your own patch of yellow-brown grass wasn't so bad?

Convincing Fraser that this thing between them might just work might take a bit more work than he had thought. But Ray was willing to tear the walls done one after another – Stella had often accused him of ruining everything with his head-against-the-wall attitude but in this case it might just work in his favor.

And Fraser wanted to give it a try—give Ray a try, so Ray knew that it would be alright in the end. Things were looking good.

Even more so when he felt the first fuzz of hair covering his head wound by the end of the week.

"Fraser, it's growing back!" Ray exclaimed triumphantly on Sunday when he came out of the bathroom.

Fraser smiled at him.

"I told you it would. I'm glad." And even after almost a full week since they had tumbled into Ray's bed for the first time Fraser hesitated before he reached out to kiss him.

Ray had noticed it before. But in the beginning he had though it was because Fraser just couldn't really believe it. After a week he wasn't so sure if it wasn't holding himself back on Fraser's part.

It was such a deliberate touch every time... it just seemed strange. Touch had always been something intuitive for Ray; it was never connected to a deliberate thought.

But Fraser didn't talk about it either and wasn't it ironic that Ray, of all people, should feel the need to be reassured with words?

"It's refreshing to get back to work tomorrow." Fraser said quietly, pulling Ray out of his thoughts.

"Oh, right," Ray said slightly disappointed. "...you're not really happy to waste your skills on consulate work, right?"

"I'm sure my work there is highly valuable and in dire need of—"

"Fraser," Ray said warningly.

Fraser rubbed a knuckle over his eyebrow.

"Ah no, not as such."

"Thanks." Ray grinned. "Just one week and then we can get back to liaise."

"I'm glad."

But no one was happier than Ray to have his house arrest over and done with.

Monday evening found Fraser in front of Ray's apartment at the end of his shift unsure of what to do now.

They hadn't talked about this. What if Ray didn't expect him back here now that the agreed two weeks were over?

Maybe Ray was glad to have an evening to himself again?

Dief whined softly next to him and pawed at the front door.

"You think we should visit Ray?"

The wolf snorted and sat down in front of the row of doorbells.

"Very well. If you insist."

Fraser hesitantly pressed the buzzer. A second later the intercom crackled to life.

"Yeah?"

"It's me," Fraser started to say feeling foolish. "I mean it's—"

"Fraser!" The voice exclaimed delighted. "Come on up," and the door clicked open.

When Fraser reached Ray's apartment he hesitated again. One day had seemed an incredibly long time and during the dull hours at the consulate the last week had felt like a fever dream.

What should he expect now?

Dief made the decision for him and pushed against the door that was already ajar. Fraser followed suit, spinning his Stetson between his fingers.

Ray appeared out of the bedroom, smoothing over his shirt.

"Hey," Ray said with a slightly embarrassed smile. "I was just—I thought I'd—nevermind." He rubbed his neck.

Fraser could smell washing detergent and fabric softener. The thought that Ray had changed into a fresh shirt specifically because he had dropped by made him smile.

"Hello Ray, it's... it's good to see you." Fraser winced inwardly at his formal greeting. There was an awkward moment in which Fraser wasn't sure what to do now.

Could he simply reach out and kiss him? Or would that make him presumptuous? Why couldn't there be a book for these kinds of situations? In all the books he had read the protagonist never doubted his conduct in romantic relationships.

Slowly, Ray stepped closer and put his hand across Fraser's cheek to press a single, sweet kiss to his lips. Fraser sighed in relief.

"Good to see you, too," Ray murmured, his eyes soft.

"Are you hungry? I've just thought about preparing something."

"That would be very much appreciated Ray."

"Dinner it is then."

Only when they reached Ray's kitchen counter did Fraser realize that Ray had been as unsure whether he would show or not as he himself had been about Ray's reaction.

There was food laid out for two people but nothing had been touched or prepared even though it was already quite late and there was an open packet of crackers on the couch table, indicating that Ray had already been hungry earlier –maybe he hadn't wanted to start with the dinner preparations, afraid that Fraser wouldn't come and then he would have had to face a table set for two on his own.

It relaxed Fraser immeasurably to recognize Ray's own nervousness in this new situation.

They sat down for dinner a little while later and Fraser entertained Ray with some rather uncharitable stories of bewildered tourists that seemed to amuse him.

At the end of his tale about the Russian horn player and his surreal conversation with Turnbull about the probability to form a country music band Ray remembered something.

"Oh hey, I got the last of the washing done. So there's fresh stuff for you tomorrow morning. No uniform, of course, but you could bring one next time, right? That way you could take an extra 5 minutes to snooze in the morning," Ray winked at him.

Fraser was speechless for a second. Ray wanted him to stay. Overnight. Repeatedly. For an indefinite amount of time. And apparently it was also the most natural thing in the world.

Ray winced slightly at Fraser's silence and waved his offer away. "Unless you'd rather go back that's—"

"No, Ray. I—that's very generous of you. I'd like that very much." Fraser's smile lit up his eyes and Ray had to smile in return at the earnest happiness in that expression.

After dinner Ray dropped into Fraser's lap and set on driving him out of his mind. In between feverish kisses Fraser pushed Ray off his lap and directed them towards Ray's bedroom.

Again it was Fraser who was in charge, who took control and who left Ray almost no chance to do some touching himself. Watching Fraser sleep afterwards, Ray thought he might have found another wall to crack.

When Fraser got up the next morning Ray was still fast asleep. However, by the time he was about to leave Ray stumbled drowsily out of the bedroom.

"Good morning Ray. I'm sorry if I woke you."

"'morning," Ray yawned, "...didn't wake me... just thought of something," Ray scratched his wildly experimental hair. "Where did I put the damn thing?"

Ray rifled through the contents on his side table until he made a happy sound when he found something in the clutter.

"Here," Ray pressed something flat and cold into Fraser's hands before yawning again. He pressed a quick kiss onto Fraser's lips and ambled in the direction of the kitchen, probably to get the coffee machine working.

Fraser looked down at the little metal object in his hands with utter fascination. It was a key.

Ray came back into the hallway a second later. "Hey I almost forgot: you know when you'll be done tonight?"

"I—," Fraser's throat felt tight. His fingers closed tightly around the spare key to Ray's apartment. "We have a visitor from Ottawa but I don't expect it to last longer than 6 o' clock," he replied automatically.

"Greatness." Ray answered, already moving back towards the kitchen. Fraser closed the space between them in two quick steps and pulled Ray back against his chest in a tight hug.

Ray turned around surprised and found Fraser's lips searching his own, hot tongue plundering his mouth until he felt weak in the knees.

"_Jesus_," Ray gasped when Fraser finally released him. "Waking up's gonna be a whole lot nicer when you do this every time."

Fraser just smiled, unable to put his gratitude into words.

"I'll see you tonight."

Fraser spent his work day palming the little key in his pocket. Now and then he pulled it out and placed it in front of him on his desk.

In moments like this Fraser could appreciate that his job at the consulate wasn't very challenging.

Dief butted his head against Fraser's knee after he had taken the key out for the 36th time.

Fraser looked at his canine companion.

"No... I don't think either that he sees how much this gesture means to me."

He ruffled Dief's fur before he turned the key around between his fingers again.

"That's the wonderful thing about Ray... he gives so much of himself without even noticing how very generous and kind he is being."

That evening Fraser could almost feel his heart beating on his tongue when he entered the key into the lock of Ray's front door, reasoning that Ray wouldn't have given it to him had he not wanted him to use it.

He had even brought a clean pairs of breeches and another serge in the hope that Ray had meant what he had said.

He entered Ray's flat and found him busy in the kitchen, singing along to some pop song Fraser wasn't familiar with "s_teal my heart and hold my tongue, I feel my time, my time has come_".

For a second Fraser simply watched him working. Apparently Ray had put some effort into tonight's dinner. There were candles on the table and a salad was already waiting to be served while Ray seemed to be stirring something on the stove.

"_I don't know which way I'm going, I don't know which way I've come_" Ray continued to sing in quiet tones, a mere background noise to all the clatter in the kitchen, _"for you I'd wait…"_ humming along with the guitar of the song.

When Ray had deposited the spoon in the sink he turned around and finally noticed Fraser.

"Hey there," he sauntered around the kitchen counter, still singing "_'til kingdom come, until my days, my days are done_".

Ray's eyes lit up when he saw that Fraser had indeed brought fresh clothes with him. "There's space in the closet in the bedroom." He smiled and kissed Fraser gently.

Fraser stood in front of the closet and wondered if Ray had space left in there before or if he had made room for Fraser. It didn't really matter; it was obvious that Ray had space for him in his life one way or another.

When he came back out of the bedroom Ray was already serving dinner.

"Sit down."

Fraser surveyed the table. "You really took great care in preparing all this," he said softly and a little awed.

Ray grinned at him. "I bet you thought I couldn't cook to save my life 'cause I always let you do it. This is just to prove that I can when I want to. Consider it a form of showing off," Ray winked cheekily. "And don't expect it in the future."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Fraser assured Ray earnestly, although there were laugh lines showing around his eyes.

Fraser chewed thoughtfully on his food and tried to come to grips with the situation. This was a date, a full out date. And it was flattering that Ray would go to such lengths even though he didn't need to win him over anymore.

When was the last time he had a date? The date with Mackenzie King had turned out to be no social meeting, let alone a romantic one, and it had been years ago so before that... sometime... probably... surely...

Ray's feet touched his underneath the table and pulled him out of his thoughts. Ray smiled at him.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

"I'm fine." Fraser answered, but his voice sounded slightly hoarse.

Ray's feet continued stroking up and down his leg. Fraser swallowed quietly, reining his emotions back in a little.

"You're so full of shit Fraser." Ray whispered with a small smile and stood up in one smooth movement until he stood right in front of Fraser's chair.

He leaned down and pulled Fraser's face slightly toward him. "'s okay," he murmured against Fraser's lips before claiming them for a kiss. Fraser's quiet whimper was lost in the movement of lips against lips.

Ray was everywhere, he could see him, touch him, smell him... _god_, he needed this. Fraser pushed the chair back and stood up while he wrapped his strong arms around Ray's body.

He pushed his tongue against Ray's lips, begging for entrance and with a low moan Ray welcomed him in, meeting him with his own tongue.

And Fraser pulled him closer, trying to get more of Ray. A demanding kiss as Fraser's tongue came hungrily back for more again and again until Ray's hands were clutching at his shirt front and his breathing sounded ragged.

It was a need Fraser couldn't really put into words. It was a need for possession, for surrender but... pushing Ray into something he didn't want was the last Fraser wanted.

He needed just... so much. He growled and deepened the kiss and Ray's lips under his were pliant and willing.

What he wanted was Ray naked beneath him; to memorize every inch of skin because life wasn't fair and should he ever wake up from this dream he wanted to have at least that much.

He wanted to burn his touch onto Ray's body, make him writhe and gasp; to see him shatter into a million pieces from sheer pleasure and then made whole again by his touch and soothing words alone.

He wanted to make Ray happy. He needed Ray to be happy... and if he took a small crumb of that happiness for himself maybe it would be alright, maybe no one would notice how happy he was and he wouldn't have to give it up.

"_God_... Fraser," Ray moaned, breaking the kiss and pulling away. He was breathing hard and his lips were red and glistening, Fraser bit his lips. Looking into Ray's eyes that had darkened impossibly so that it wasn't even possible anymore to tell the color of his eyes Fraser couldn't wait anymore.

Fraser took his hand and pulled him to the couch.

"No, bed. Come on," and Ray pushed him between the shoulder blades to change direction. The couch would've been only another foot away he thought longingly.

Once in the bedroom though Fraser realized that Ray had obviously thought ahead. The bed was made with fresh linen, there were two small but thick candles on the bedside drawer and a bottle of lube and some condoms were also already at hand.

While Fraser surveyed the room, Ray quickly lighted the candles, casting the room in a flickering, warm glow.

The thought that Ray had prepared everything while he had been at work, had obviously thought about sex with him while he wasn't there made something in Fraser's chest growl with lust.

He lunged at Ray and pulled him in for a deep kiss, his hands moved along Ray's upper body until they found the hem of the shirt to pull it up. Before Ray had even managed to get the shirt over his head Fraser had already opened Ray's jeans and started to push them down.

Ray more or less stumbled backwards onto the bed and Fraser wasted no time to finally divest him of the rest of his clothes and his socks.

Fraser's eyes roved hungrily over Ray's stretched out body. He never knew what he was going to do, he didn't plan where to touch or how—missing the practice, especially with a man. But Ray's body always did the talking beautifully.

Some part of Ray always called to him, the whole body begging to be touched, and he would move from that spot to the next, worshipping it with his mouth, lips and tongue, with his fingers, sucking and licking, smoothing, stroking, gripping, whatever felt right, drawing the most delicious sounds from Ray.

He was mesmerized by the soft trail of golden hairs leading down from Ray's navel and he leaned down to taste them when Ray put a hand out. "Wait," his voice sounded thick.

Ray licked his lips and pushed into a sitting position.

"Let's get you undressed," and immediately his nimble fingers followed his words, pushing Fraser's shirt up and over his head, smoothing down over his naked chest, making Fraser shiver. "Want to feel you," Ray murmured and went to work on Fraser's jeans.

Once completely naked Ray pulled him onto the bed with him; gasping when skin met skin.

The need to touch Ray, to make him moan in pleasure was overwhelming and Fraser reached out to wrap his arms around him but Ray was faster—with the agility of a dancer Ray rolled on top of Fraser and successfully pinned him to the bed.

Involuntarily, Fraser's hips snapped up, moving against Ray and drawing a delicious moan from the other man. Completely focused on Ray's expression, the eyes closed in bliss, the jaw slack, lost in feeling, Fraser did it again eliciting another deep moan in response.

Ray's fingers suddenly dug into his shoulder, pressing him against the mattress and Ray's lips were on him, devouring him until Fraser was panting, his fingers gripping Ray's hip, pulling him down against him.

Ray broke the kiss and looked at Fraser with lust fogged eyes, a smile – on the knife-edge of being dangerous – played around the corners of his mouth.

"Can you do something for me?"

Ray's body was still pressed deliciously against him, the long legs sprawled to either side of him and he could feel Ray's erection pressed against his hip bone. Fraser's hands were shaking with the effort not to push Ray onto his back and to make him come in ten different ways.

Ray's dirty chuckle called Fraser back. Right, Ray had asked him something.

"Yes," Fraser moaned, looking at Ray through hooded eyes.

"Hold still. Let me—let me touch you," and Ray's face came closer until Fraser felt teeth close around the vein at his throat, sharp teeth sank into his skin and Fraser felt his pulse jump, he groaned.

"Yes, I—yes," Fraser gasped.

Ray smirked against his skin before his lips moved lower, his hands roamed freely over Fraser's chest and lower, past his navel, and still lower and Fraser bit his lips in anticipation.

But Ray's hand didn't touch his cock, instead it moved over his hipbone, stroking his sides up to pinch his right nipple and Fraser's back arched off the bed with a shocked moan.

It turned into a whimper when Ray's hot lips closed around the little nub, sucking wetly, followed by a sharp sting when Ray's fingers twisted his other nipple at the same time and Fraser cried out but Ray's tongue was already licking around it, soothing the sting.

And Ray's fingers were stroking tantalizing over his heated skin, whispering promises and spiralling Fraser's lust yet higher.

Fraser felt completely powerless under Ray's onslaught; it was terrifying. He felt exposed, unprotected, bared.

Ray moved lower, hot breath ghosting over Fraser's erection and Fraser's breath caught in his throat. He could feel Ray's lips agonizingly close to his heated flesh and when he couldn't bear it anymore he opened his eyes to look.

A moan left his lips at the sight of Ray, lips hovering over his cock but the eyes fixed on him. Suddenly he couldn't look away anymore and Ray extended his tongue to lick a leisurely stripe up all the way to the tip.

A fine drop of pre-come welled up and Fraser flushed, turned on and helpless about it, loving this attention and wanting Ray to stop looking at him like that at the same time.

But Ray only moaned appreciatively and lapped it up; Fraser groaned, his eyes dropping closed, as he fisted his hands in the sheets.

With a strangled moan Fraser's eyes flew open again—Ray had engulfed his cock in the tight heat of his mouth, covering the base with his fist, his tongue fluttering against the vein on the underside and lips sucking tightly and Fraser spread his legs wider in an effort not to rock up into the delicious friction.

Slowly, Fraser felt a single finger smoothing down his perineum, moving lower until—he gasped when Ray's finger circled gently but firmly around his hole.

He tensed.

He didn't mean to it was... he had tried it once or twice but... he hadn't been able to let himself go, too self-conscious and thinking too much and, well, it hadn't been very pleasurable.

He knew all the theory and he had been able to tell that Ray had been ready for it. It was just that—maybe he was some kind of freak. All the books said it was extremely stimulating once you've managed to relax your sphincter. Apparently he wasn't very good at it.

But Ray wasn't deterred. He kept on stroking over the tight opening, sucking Fraser's cock until Fraser's thigh muscles relaxed again.

A second finger joined the first, just moving in slow circles, never once pressing in and after a bit Fraser lost his fear that Ray might do something he wouldn't enjoy.

With one final lick Ray released Fraser's cock; his fingers kept continuing their movement and Ray's slightly swollen lips stretched into a small smile. "Been a while?"

"You could—yes, you could say that." Fraser said slightly breathless. Ray was watching him like a hawk and Fraser blushed again, feeling caught and not even sure why. Ray's look turned knowing and his fingers vanished.

Warm lips pressed a soft kiss to Fraser's thigh.

"Turn around." Ray said quietly and Fraser hesitated for a second. Reasoning that Ray would never do anything that he didn't want—let alone hurt him, but...

Ray waited uncharacteristically patient, unwilling to give Fraser further reassurance. He had to decide for himself if he was willing to trust Ray so far.

After a second longer, Fraser moved onto his stomach, unable to see Ray's relieved smile.

Fraser tried to keep his shoulders relaxed while he felt Ray move behind him. Warm lips trailed kisses down his spine, here and there Ray's tongue painted a wet trail over the skin of his back.

Ray's strong fingers gripped his ass cheeks, kneading them slightly and Fraser couldn't quite keep from tensing up. And still Ray was exploring his back with his lips and his tongue, moving slowly lower until Fraser felt hot breath ghosting over his opening—he gasped, surprised at the feeling.

Suddenly a wet tongue licked a broad stripe directly over his hole and for a second every muscle in Fraser's body pulled tight and just as suddenly he buried his face into the pillow to smother the guttural moan that was ripped from his throat.

Ray's fingers pried his ass cheeks further apart and the tongue licked again at his entrance, softly right from the beginning of his crack all the way down to his balls and Fraser hid his face in mortification, unable to keep his panting quiet.

This was embarrassing, it was—oh _god_—it was so good and he was shaking with the intensity of his emotions. Being laid bare for someone like that... feeling pleasure of a kind he hadn't even known existed.

Ray's tongue circled his opening and Fraser moaned helplessly into the pillow. When the tongue actually breached him Fraser was crying out—and Ray was showing no mercy.

He pushed his tongue in again and again, short stabs, just breaching him over and over and Fraser was almost sobbing with pleasure, writhing helplessly against the sheets, trying to force more of that tongue into him.

It was too much, or too little, and there was nothing keeping him together anymore. His hip was humping the bed underneath him without any conscious thought—it was just too intense.

He wanted—"ahhh—_god_," he needed... "_Ray_..." It felt like coming, thousand little sparks only just short of being enough and it was driving him insane.

Fraser pushed onto his knees, shamelessly spreading his legs further to get more of that tongue and when Ray moaned in delight the vibrations went straight to Fraser's cock.

His face must have been burning but he couldn't bring himself to care and Ray's tongue was spearing him, as deep as it could reach and his moans were probably keeping the whole neighbourhood awake.

"Please," Fraser was begging and he didn't even know for what, more, less, anything, everything just "_please_," again in that broken voice.

"Ahh—Ray, _more_, please..."

And when he felt the first finger enter him Fraser was groaning in relief. It went in easily, reaching further than Ray's tongue had been able to and still that maddening tongue kept pushing in next to it and Fraser bit the pillow to keep from screaming.

Ray added a second finger, inserting both of them as deep as they could go and then he scissored them, pushing his tongue in between them and Fraser did shout. "Oh...Ray I..." he clenched his teeth, "—fuck—" the expletive was flung from his lips causing Ray to groan.

"Ah god—please, please, I—"

And Ray would have laughed at Fraser's incoherence but he was far too turned on by it to find it amusing.

Carefully he pulled his fingers back and reached for the condoms and the lube.

He nudged Fraser until he rolled over onto his back. Ray moved in between his legs and looked at him. Fraser's face was flushed, the lips glistening and he had a faraway look in his eyes. Ray gulped, Fraser was sex personified.

He positioned his cock at Fraser's glistening hole and pressed in, as slowly as he could stand but Fraser wasn't resisting. He opened right up, taking him in to the hilt and when Ray was fully sheathed he leaned down to kiss Fraser.

He moved his face back a little. "Love you."

His hips began to move, slow, deep strokes that rocked Fraser to the core.

Fraser legs came up to wrap around his hips and his arms closed around his neck to pull him down for another deep kiss.

Fraser had never felt anything like it. It was intense... letting someone in like that... being joined this intimately. It was almost too much to look at Ray and yet he wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Ray moved his left arm next to Fraser's shoulder to support himself, changing the angle in the process. And with the next thrust of his hips Fraser cried out.

"Oh _god_—more—"

And Ray grinned and slammed in, hitting Fraser's sweet spot again and Fraser let got completely.

Ray had never seen a wild thing like him. Fraser was writhing on the bed; shoving back against him, his legs behind Ray's back drawing him in again and again until Fraser's whole body was sweat soaked.

"Ray, oh—Ray—harder—oh god—harder," Fraser whispered hoarsely.

Pre-come was dripping freely from Fraser's cock and Ray curled one hand around it, timing his strokes with his thrusts and Fraser gave a strangled moan and came—almost the moment Ray's fingers closed around him.

"Ahhh—Ray!" and Ray felt Fraser spasm around him, and pushed in frantically, two times, three times and buried himself deep inside, his orgasm shooting through him with mind shattering intensity.

"Oh god," he groaned, collapsing almost completely on top of Fraser but since Fraser didn't appear to care much that was all right.

A little while later Ray finally rolled next to Fraser, throwing the condom in the trash—or at least aiming in the vague direction of it.

Fraser didn't even bother with cleaning himself. He simply pulled Ray closed to him and wrapped his arms around him.

Ray's eyes started to feel like lead.

"Frase... you alright?" He murmured, almost too tired but this was too important to fuck it up.

"Mhh..." Was at first all Fraser said. But strong arms stroked lovingly down his back. "More than alright Ray," Fraser mumbled sleepily.

Ray grinned and whispered "Partners, Fraser, partners," into Fraser's hair before he followed him into sleep.

And this was how things began. Every time Fraser brought a fresh change of clothes or a book or some other thing with him it sooner or later simply ended up in one of Ray's drawers or on one of his shelves.

It wasn't even something Ray talked about or did with conscious thought—it just happened. Ray would find a shirt of Fraser under the bed, thrown there during last night's frantic activities, and would throw it to the rest of his stuff in the laundry basket.

And when things came back from the wash he folded them and made some space in the closet for the additional stuff.

Ray couldn't deny though that he breathed easier with every personal item of Fraser more on his shelves. The more Fraser had at his apartment the less likely it seemed that he would simply surprise Ray one day and say: "Oh Ray, my very good friend, it seemed germane to let you know that I will be moving back to the frozen North to commune with the Caribou."

It was even better when Ray was finally allowed to get back to work. Kicking some heads was definitely better for his self-esteem than sitting around at home playing housewife.

The satisfaction of seeing McKinnley go to jail for attempted murder just sweetened the whole deal.

And when they got into a tight spot again – because with Fraser this always happened sooner or later – and they managed to get the bad boys without having their heads blown off it was just another ordinary day in the works.

And when Fraser attacked him as soon as they got home, clinging to him and demanding with lips and tongue and desperate fingers – and sometimes even innocent words, whispered hotly and with needy urgency against Ray's lips – that Ray made love to him, hard and fast until he couldn't think anymore about all the 'what if's' and 'could have's', Ray could do that, too.

A fucking duet.

Even though Fraser had the worst timing ever. Being locked in a shipping container might not be fun under the best circumstances what with the dark and the confined space and everything.

Being locked inside one in fucking September long after the sun had gone down definitely wasn't fun.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Ray raged, kicking against the metal walls.

"Ray."

"How could we be so fucking stupid? It reeked of an ambush!"

"Ray."

"Why did we fall for it? We're so... Argh!" Ray pulled at his hair and kicked the wall again.

"Ray please!"

"Stupid, is what we are." Ray aimed another kick at the metal keeping them locked inside. "Shit," he swore when he hurt his foot in the process.

"Ray, exertion leads to perspiration and perspiration is the body's way of cooling you down. Calm down, you're going to be freezing."

"I am already freezing my ass of Fraser," Ray shouted and Fraser winced at the slight hysteria in Ray's voice.

"I kept the bug the Capote brother's placed in your car."

"Great Fraser, that's really great. Don't you think they know where we are? After all IT'S THEIR FUCKING FAULT WE'RE STUCK HERE."

"Ray, remember when we discovered the bug? I called the precinct to let them know about the model so that they could pick up the signal?"

"Oh. Right."

Fraser heard Ray shifting and even though it was too dark to see he could picture Ray's embarrassed pose in his mind.

"So they'll be here any second?" Ray asked hopefully.

"Well," Fraser rubbed his eyebrow.

"Fraser—?" Ray knew that tone and it wasn't the one that said 'immediate rescue'.

"Ah, the metal container is blocking every transmission."

"It—WHAT?"

"However," Fraser tried to sound reasonable, "the signal stopped right at the moment when we were locked in here. Someone should have picked up on that anomaly. It is most likely that they will notice this peculiarity as soon as they finish picking the Capote brothers up."

Ray was quiet for a moment until he sighed in defeat.

"That means it might be tomorrow morning before they find us."

"Ah...yes." Fraser admitted.

"Which means we might still freeze to death." Ray sounded resigned.

"Well, seeing that our current temperature is around 10 degrees Celsius— we were lucky that it was a sunny day, the metal will have soaked up some of the warmth— and that the temperature is going to drop approximately—"

"Fraser!"

"Essentially, yes," Fraser said quietly. "However, it is unlikely—"

"But not impossible."

"No, not impossible." Fraser conceded.

"So what's the plan?"

"We are dressed appropriately for the weather. That should work in our favour. Come here, let's try to keep warm. It all depends on how far temperatures are going to drop."

Ray sighed and groped his way over to where Fraser was sitting. He sat down in the v of Fraser's legs and Fraser settled his blue overcoat over them both.

Ray could feel his breath turning to white mist in the cold air.

"This reminds me of the time where my father and Buck Frobisher were stuck in a blizzard in 19—" And Fraser started to talk, whatever he could remember from his father's diaries or anecdotes of his work adventures.

Ray didn't know how much time had passed but if Fraser told one more anecdote he would fall asleep. He yawned and snuggled back against Fraser's chest.

"Ray, you mustn't fall asleep," Fraser said urgently.

"I know but honestly... one more story of Beaver Joe and I can't help it."

"Oh," Fraser sounded surprised. No one had probably told him so far that Beaver Joe wasn't the most exciting story.

"Tell me something about you, Fraser. Something I don't know."

Fraser was quiet for so long that Ray's eyes had already started to droop.

"I was seventeen when I lost my virginity." Fraser quiet voice cut through Ray's sleep fogged mind and he gasped quietly. He hadn't expected Fraser to tell something quite so personal. He was usually quite good at distracting you when talking about himself.

"Her name was Mary Drayton, she was a slightly older than me, roughly one year and she was visiting her grandparents for a while. I hadn't known her for a very long time but I was instantly infatuated with her. I was training at the Depot at that time and one evening, it was a warm April day I remember that very clearly, she took me home to the house where her grandparents lived. We had to be quiet so as not to wake them and I was painfully nervous and terribly inapt—I didn't know what I was doing. All I had known about the human body I had learned from biology books."

And Ray could see the picture so vividly in front of him: Fraser, earnest and so very young, fresh faced and idealistic. He smiled.

"But she was very sweet about it, showing me where to touch and... I was terribly in love with her. Of course, I was very young then so I'm probably exaggerating.. She woke me early the next morning so that I could leave before her grandparents noticed. I asked her when we would see each other again..." Fraser paused and Ray could hear him lick his lips before he continued.

"She smiled at me; it was obvious that she thought me very naive or at least very amusing. She told me that she was leaving the same day. She was getting married next week; surely I had known that this was a onetime thing, just fun..." Fraser swallowed drily behind Ray. "I hadn't."

"Oh Frase..." Ray said quietly, squeezing Fraser's hand firmly and Fraser squeezed back.

It was as if Ray had opened a flood gate of bad memories with his request. It wasn't a very long list of failed relationships, or maybe Fraser was only telling him the high points, but it was painful to hear.

Ray listened carefully when Fraser told the story of the first boy he had kissed when he had been 12 years old. The boy's name had been David Shaw and they had been best friends for the time that Fraser's grandparents had stayed in Tuktoyaktuk.

"One evening I was at his house to help him with his homework. His parents would be back later but I know that we actually did school work even though no one was supervising us. I leaned over to point out a mistake he had made and when I looked at him his face was so very close to mine.

His eyes dropped to my mouth and back up again and I remember I was very afraid but I closed the distance between us despite my rapidly beating heart. And he kissed me back... we kissed for a long time. I was so embarrassed afterwards and suddenly there were noises coming from the entrance door and I gathered my books, blushing horribly and I left."

Ray grinned. Some things apparently hadn't changed.

"The next morning when I came to school every one was laughing and pointing at me. David had told everyone that I had kissed him; using words no 12 year old should be called. And David was watching the other kids make fun of me, he didn't join in but he didn't talk to me either. My grandparents stayed for another month in Tuktokyaktuk. I can't remember a time where I had been lonelier... and the rude jokes never stopped."

Fraser took a shaking breath and buried his face in Ray's neck.

Ray reached back and stroked through Fraser's hair.

"It was a long time ago..." Ray whispered.

But Ray knew that this hadn't been the last disappointment. The bullet wound in Fraser's back was talking way too loudly for Ray's liking.

So Ray shared some of his worst experiences. Although they weren't as hurtful for him as they had been for Fraser. Stella who had dated countless other, popular, boys at school to make him jealous, bad one night stands after his marriage had fallen to shambles, guys who never bothered to call him after a night of bumping uglies... the list ran on and on.

The difference was that Ray didn't expect people to be any different. He didn't have all of Fraser's high expectations; he didn't belief in the inherent goodness of others. Mostly he just thought that everyone was just trying to get laid, doing anything for a fuck and if that meant screwing you over in the process then so be it.

Basically, Ray was always expecting people to be disappointed in him. First it had been Stellas's parents, then his dad when he had dropped out of college and later on Stella herself. So he gave up having high expectations of himself, mostly he prepared himself for the coming let down in advance.

He met someone who was interest in him and – bam – he was looking for faults in them.

No one got the hots for simple, plain Ray Kowalski. At least not for an unlimited amount of time. It just didn't happen.

When their relief came sometime in the early morning and Welsh sent them both home to get some sleep and warmed up Ray let Fraser take control, let him take anything he wanted from him, giving everything as freely as he could.

Fraser deserved everything he wanted and if Ray could give it he would do his damndest to make sure he got it.

And if it took the rest of his life to convince Fraser that he was here to stay, well, that was Ray's plan anyway. How very convenient.

They were an unlikely pair, Ray thought. Burnt children like every person with a past history but disillusioned in different ways.

The scraggy street alley cat that fell in love with the fledgling that fell out of its nest too early.

Oh well, at least the fledgling had turned out to grow up into an eagle or a falcon or something equally impressive whereas Ray had mostly stayed the same old stray cat – just maybe less scrawny then when he had been younger.

It was good while it lasted.

At least that's what Ray tried to tell himself almost a year later, sitting in an abandoned school building during the summer holidays with a bullet in his leg and a bomb next to him.

Fuck. How did he always end up in these situations?

Especially since he had mostly been worried about Fraser—after all he had been the one trying to track down the insane bomber with the help of Willie's description, when the anonymous call came in, saying that one of the schools in their districts was about to blow up.

Ray had just tried to figure out which school it was. Who would've thought he would get lucky on both instances?

Willie, a kid Fraser apparently knew from way back, had come up to Fraser a week ago saying a strange guy living in his neighbourhood was going around talking to people and buying stuff and that at first he had thought it was just another psycho but then he got scared so he thought he'd better let Fraser check it out.

But, of course, the moment Fraser appeared the guy had vanished from the face of the earth and no one had seen or heard anything. And then the call came in and they split up. Fraser following the address the call had been traced to and Ray followed a hunch.

He remembered a school not too far away in which a teacher had killed a student and wounded another roughly a year ago before aiming the gun at himself. It seemed worth a try and time was running out. So he picked that one and Huey and Dewey and the rest covered the remaining schools and off he went.

Fuck. Why did his hunches always have to be right?

At the school Ray realized that the homicide had happened exactly a year to the day ago. There was a memorial shrine in front of the building but most of the people had already left after the memorial service in the morning.

And at first Ray thought he had been wrong. Wouldn't it have made more sense to attack the building during the memorial service?

But once he rounded the corner to the first floor he found the director of the school lying on the ground, a huge bump on his forehead.

Ray helped him up.

"Hey man, come on..." The man groaned and as soon as his eyes focused he started to claw at Ray's arm.

"He's got her! Oh my god, he's got her. You've got to help her!"

"Easy, easy. Who's got who?"

"Gordon Wilson! He's got my daughter, he's got Elizabeth. He's going to kill her, please, you—"

Wilson was the dead boy's father. Ray remembered from a newspaper article last year. So this was revenge... Ray remembered, the article had said that Wilson blamed the director of the school for missing the signs that one of his teachers was about to run amok.

Police had investigated the thing but nothing had come of it, apparently the director had been as clueless as the rest. Everyone had said that their colleague had been a well-adjusted, very polite, perfectly fine individual. Unremarkable, had been the word they had all agreed on.

"Alright, alright. Calm down. Do you know which direction they left?"

"He said- oh god- he said something about the song ending-no, no— ending this with a song. That's what he said. I-I don't know what that means! You have to help her!" The man was beside himself.

Ray smacked himself.

"The music room. Where's the music room?" His hunch had led him so far, it wouldn't let him down now.

"On the second floor. Oh please—"

"I want you to go outside, okay? Fast. There's a bomb in here. You're not helping her like this. I promise I'll get your daughter out of here. RUN!"

Ray shoved at the father who stumbled and hesitated. Ray snarled at him: "GO!" And then on sudden inspiration to give the man something to do he shouted "Get the people in front of the building away!"

And the director finally kicked into action.

Ray pulled his mobile out of his pocket and called dispatch.

"Here's detective Ray Kowalski. It's the West Chicago Community High School; I repeat it's the West Chicago Community High School. We need someone to close off the area, quickly. We might have a hostage situation in here so stay clear, I repeat: Do NOT enter. Over."

Ray took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the second floor he saw a man pulling a young girl along with him into another room.

Ray crept up behind them. He needed the element of surprise if he wanted to enable the kid to escape.

He sneaked a glance through the window and saw that the man had let go of the girl—reaching for something on the desk, probably something to bind her. Now.

Ray pushed the door open and before the man had fully turned around Ray had tackled him to the ground.

"RUN!" he shouted at Elizabeth who stood there frozen to the spot. "You're father's outside, take the quickest route. RUN dammit!" And Elizabeth nodded and sprinted out of the door.

Ray only managed to keep Wilson pinned down for a moment longer before he elbowed Ray in the ribs and broke free.

"You're not the one I wanted for this scenario," Wilson panted before he took a look at his watch.

"But we don't have the time to change this now, pity." He raised his arm and fired a bullet straight into Ray's leg. Ray howled in pain and Wilson smiled in satisfaction.

"Just to make sure that at least one person is going to be here for the big finale. You probably won't live long enough to listen to the full symphony though."

Wilson backed out of the door, running toward the exit while Ray cradled his shot leg.

"Shit!"

Okay, okay. The bomb. Think about the pain in the leg later; get rid of the bomb first.

And then Ray saw it and turned pale. It wasn't a bomb, as in 'one'. The bomb was inside of the paper lantern sitting on the desk... the same paper lantern Ray had seen at various intervals around the school for the memorial. If that was a bomb, there were probably countless others...

Bastard, that was what he had meant with the 'full symphony'. Ray hobbled over to the desk ripped the paper part away, and there, right at the base of the lantern was a small plastic case with a red digital number counting downward.

4 minutes 36 seconds left.

He was going to die. Yes, it was nice while it lasted. Happiness probably couldn't go on forever, the simple truths in life.

Ray sank down against the wall with the bomb in his hands and pulled out his mobile again.

"Here's detective Kowalski. Put me through to Welsh."

Outside of the building, police had managed to get the civilians away. An ambulance was taking care of Mr. Tanner, the director of the school, and his daughter. Another blue and white held Mr. Wilson in custody.

The radio in one of the patrol cars crackled to life.

"This is Kowalski." Welsh picked up the mouthpiece with a tense gesture. Fraser leaned closer, his brows drawn together.

"Kowalski what's going on in there?"

Ray laughed bitterly. "It's going to be a real blast I assure you. It's not one bomb, there's one in almost every other room here. In fact, I'm sitting right next to one."

"You get out of there Kowalski, I mean it." Welsh clenched his fist.

"I can't... I'm shot." Ray admitted.

"We're going in—"

"YOU'RE NOT! There's no way that you can disarm all of the bombs in here in..." there was a short pause as Ray checked the timer on the bomb, "3 minutes and 56 seconds. You'll get everyone killed."

Welsh fist connected with the hood of the patrol car so hard it left a dent.

"Lieutenant, you have to give the command for all of them to stay outside." Ray said in a reasonable tone, betraying his own anxiety.

"...fine. You better survive Kowalski." He handed the walkie-talkie to Fraser and approached the guy with the megaphone to have everyone stay put.

"Ray!"

"Hey Fraser... I'm sorry, you hear me?"

"Where are you?"

"Isn't it ironic? I never went to a classic concert but I'm dying right next to a grand piano."

"I'll be right there!"

"STAY! You won't get your stupid Canadian head blown off, do you understand me? Not on my watch. I worked too hard to keep you alive over the years. Now let me get to work on this stupid bomb... I love you."

"I love you too." Fraser whispered before the radio went dead.

Ray cursed and went to work on the bomb. Even if he did manage to dismantle this one chances were good that he would die anyway. And escaping out of the second floor with a shot leg wasn't something Ray even needed to consider.

Ray looked at the different colors of the wires.

Blue is hope, black means we won't cope... hm... Red is dead, blue is through, black is...

The countdown read 2 minutes 43 seconds. Ray's hands were sweaty.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you." Ray murmured fingering the wires again.

Black was the color of coffee, blue was the color of the police and red… red was the color of…

2 minutes 03 seconds remaining.

Better to wait or better get it over and done quickly?

Swallowing Ray plucked the wire—and the countdown stopped.

"Ray!"

Ray's eyes widened— that stubborn Canadian…

"Get out of here!" Ray shouted hoarsely in the direction of the window.

A few breaths later Fraser's head appeared over the window sill before he heaved himself inside.

He smiled relieved when his eyes found Ray's.

"I'm glad I found you."

"Fraser! The rest of the bombs go off in about one and a half minutes. I told you to stay outside! Dammit! How did you even manage to—nevermind, I don't even wanna know."

"You said you wouldn't leave me if you didn't have to." Fraser stated matter-of-factly.

Ray gaped at him.

"And you chose to believe me NOW? Fraser if I bite the dust now you're going to die as well!"

"I'm not going to let you die alone."

"You stubborn son of a—"

"Partners, Ray."

Ray looked sharply at Fraser but Fraser wasn't backing down on this.

"…alright," Ray sighed in defeat.

"Thank you. Now we have to hurry, I can't carry you down and we don't have the time to leave the building. Do you know where the next bomb is?"

"Yeah… the room next to this should be a broom cupboard or something so that's out. I'd say the class room next to us because it's the art room. This is the top floor so…"

"Right." Fraser took a look around and seemed to be calculating. "Okay, let me help you up."

He reached down and slung his arm underneath Ray's arms to heave him up. Ray groaned in pain but let himself be pulled. Fraser rather carried than supported him but together they made it to the farthest corner of the room.

He let Ray sink down again and had just opened his mouth when a deafening explosion set in. Fraser flung himself down to cover Ray and a second later a fine, white dust was hovering in the air, bits and pieces of furniture lay scattered around the room.

Fraser lifted his head and coughed.

"Are you hurt?"

Ray wiped at his eyes to protect them from the debris.

"No, you?"

"I'm fine."

Fraser stood up and helped Ray to his feet.

"How did you manage to defuse the bomb?"

Ray grinned.

"I guessed. You Canadians are hopelessly unoriginal in your color choice."

Fraser's eyebrows climbed up into his hairline.

"Excuse me?"

"I picked the red one, reminded me of your serge and all the stuff about it representing the Queen."

"And how does our bomber figure into all this?"

"Don't you think Gordon Wilson sounds awfully Canadian?"

Fraser was speechless. Ray used that moment to wrap his arms around him and pull him close for a kiss. The sound of crumbling stone brought them back to the present.

The whole wall where Ray had been sitting before had collapsed, even the doorway was blocked.

This whole thing was going to come down in a matter of minutes.

Ray pulled his mobile out again.

When the radio beeped Welsh couldn't believe his ears.

"We might need some assistance getting out," came Ray's cheerful voice slightly distorted through the tinny speakers.

"You better be more dead than alive. I swear the Constable better be unconscious, otherwise he has some discussion about following protocol coming that he won't know what hit him."

"I'm terribly sorry Lieutenant Welsh. I'm well aware that my misconduct will have consequences and I am well prepared to take responsibility for my actions."

Welsh's sigh was long suffering.

"Where are you?"

Ray and Fraser smiled at each other.

Ray had to admit it had been a long and bumpy ride but he wouldn't give it up for the world. 

**~ Epilogue ~**

When the door to the small cabin opened, bringing a gust of cold air with it, Ray was immediately on his feet.

Dief bounded in to greet him but Ray had only a second to ruffle his fur to spare before his attention was drawn to Fraser.

His cheeks were red from the biting wind and his cheeks were covered in stubble.

Ray stalked in his direction and Fraser's look turned apprehensive when he saw Ray's determined expression.

Ray didn't even wait for Fraser to finish taking his coat off before he wrapped his arms around him to pull his lips closer.

Fraser's lips were cold and chapped against Ray's heated tongue and Fraser moaned softly when Ray slipped his tongue inside.

Strong hands pulled Ray closer against Fraser's cold body, leaving snowflakes melting on Ray's sweater.

The kiss turned demanding, Ray's tongue was probing deeper with an urgency that made Fraser's head spin.

He broke the kiss with a gasp.

"_Ray_," he growled—a warning and a question.

Ray did a quick box step back before he jumped forward again, all restless energy, two fingers stabbing accusingly in Fraser's direction.

"_You_," he stressed the syllable with a hard look in Fraser's eyes. Fraser blinked surprised; it had been a while since he had seen Ray angry.

"Didn't you want to be back two days ago? Two fucking days Fraser? I mean, what the hell? Or didn't you tell me you'd be finished by Wednesday, huh?"

"I—no, yes I said that." Fraser smoothed a knuckle over his eyebrow.

"And is it Wednesday now? No it fucking is not. It's Friday Fraser... you know what Friday is? Friday is two days later then _fucking_ Wednesday!" Ray raged, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

Fraser licked his lips and ducked his head slightly. He watched Ray's expression carefully for a moment.

"Were you worried?" he asked softly.

That seemed to take the wind out of Ray's sails. He sputtered for a second before jabbing his fingers again towards Fraser's chest.

"Damn right I was—"

But Fraser didn't let him continue. He pulled Ray in a tight embrace and cut his rant off with a deep kiss. When he finally released Ray, Ray was breathing hard. But he seemed considerably calmer.

"I'm sorry Ray. We apprehended the miscreant a little later than I had expected. We had to cross the pass up ahead of Nelson Forks—you know the area," Fraser looked questioningly at Ray.

"Yeah, we flew past it when Matty and I flew up those crates. Damn rough territory," Ray admitted while he finally helped Fraser out of his coat.

"Yes exactly, and difficult to navigate. Well, we caught up with him in the end but it was easier to go further and leave him at the next outpost than carry him back with us. However," Fraser let himself drop down on the couch and started to unlace his boots, "a recent storm had damaged the phone lines so I couldn't let you know that our trip went 20 kilometers further than I had anticipated—"

"What's 20 kilometers?"

Fraser looked amused.

"You've been living in Canada for almost a year and you still haven't figured out the metric system?"

Ray looked annoyed. "I have better things to do in my spare time."

Fraser smiled. "20 kilometers are 12.4 miles." Fraser sighed with relief when he pushed his heavy boots off. "I would have let you know if I could have."

Ray knocked his shoulder against Fraser's and smiled. "I know."

He smiled ruefully. "I knew you had a reason for kidnapping me to Canada. So that I'd be the one constantly worrying if you'd come back to me because I can't always be there to watch your back."

Fraser's eyebrows shot up.

"Don't be ridiculous." There was a pause and Fraser licked his lips before he continued with a smirk. "I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn't meet anyone you found more interesting than me."

Ray grinned back.

"And I can't meet anyone here?"

"You mean in Canada?"

Ray grimaced.

"Uhm… right." Ray's grin turned sly. "See, I knew you had a devious plot when you asked me to come and live with you in the middle of nowhere."

Fraser leaned over to kiss Ray. When he pulled back he whispered against Ray's lips, "then why did you say yes?"

Ray smiled gently at Fraser, blue eyes dancing. "Because I knew that you finally trusted me to stick around."

Fraser pulled Ray into a hug and breathed in deeply.

"…that and I couldn't risk that you settled for some hideous Canadian logger instead of my handsome self."

Fraser couldn't quite hide the chuckle. "You know very well that I could never replace you, Ray." Fraser chided gently.

Yeah… and wasn't that the biggest fucking mystery of Ray's life? –Just plain Ray Kowalski. But for Fraser that was more than enough.

It blew his mind. It made even Canada a pretty great place to live. 

– **THE END –**


End file.
